


Forbidden Fruit

by MKK



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Age Difference, Childhood Trauma, Claustrophobia, Deception, F/M, Forgiveness, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Reconciliation, Recovery, Redemption, Rescue Missions, Sexual Content, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKK/pseuds/MKK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak has a fan, the teenage daughter of a former associate, suddenly visiting the station.   Bashir, however, is not a fan, neither of her or the situation, and for a while he is even more distant from Garak than the two had already been because of the war.  They are both soon forced to evaluate what they really want and what they really believe about each other - especially once Garak's new fan decides to take things a dangerous step or two further.  It turns out that the real forbidden fruit is not temptation after all, but the willingness to love and forgive each other.  That turns out to be exactly what the two had been searching for all along.</p><p>Takes place in the seventh season of DS9 roughly around the time of "Afterimage," and references the TNG episode "Chain of Command Part 2."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've long wondered about Gul Madred and his daughter Jil Orra in the TNG episode "Chain of Command" - why did he bring her to the interrogation room at all? Why would her mother allow that? What was he really trying to teach her? Their relationship seemed to be so loving despite his evil - how did it continue to develop? What happened to him, and to her? The parallels with Garak and his own father were just too interesting to pass up - yet they developed in a quite different way and with very different results. Or were there more similarities than differences between those two children?
> 
> I wanted to explore many themes in this story, all the way from Garak and Bashir coming to terms with Garak's past, to the difficulties Garak would have truly breaking free from that past. This is my interpretation; in a way, it's my own "coming to terms" with characters I love and the distance that seemed to exist between them for a while, and to which Garak himself alludes in the book "A Stitch In Time." 
> 
> I've tried not to dwell on precise illustrations of torture and abuse from the past; those things can be read any day in real reports, including quite recent ones, from our own era and I didn't see the need to invent too much. However, I wish one theme to be clearest, that I believe Garak was not ever a monster even though he was raised and trained by a true monster. In a way, he himself was "forbidden fruit" for Enabran Tain, and Tain recognized his talent but never recognized the real treasure he was given. Luckily, the Federation finally did, and so did Cardassia. And, most of all, so did Bashir. Over the years, conventional wisdom has sometimes given Garak a very evil past too - I've tried to go back to see just exactly what he was said to have done both by the DS9 writers and in Mr. Robinson's book, and I find that his Order persona is not quite as irredeemable as it would appear. So that's the interpretation I believe in and which I offer here. 
> 
> This story also contains implied incest, as well as sexual encounters with a girl just past the age of consent. I've incorporated some themes and ideas in here that I never put into a G/B story before - I wanted to stretch a little. I tried not to veer too far from outcomes alluded to in "ASIT," although I have a less optimistic view of Madred than the book does.

"Forbidden Fruit"

all the forbidden fruit I ever  
dreamt of--or was taught to  
resist and fear--ripens and  
blossoms under the palms of my  
hands as they uncover and explore  
you--and in the most secret  
corners of my heart as it discovers  
and adores you--the forbidden fruit  
of forgiveness--the forbidden fruit  
of finally feeling the happiness  
you were afraid you didn't deserve--  
the forbidden fruit of my life's labor  
\--the just payment I have avoided  
since my father taught me how--  
the forbidden fruit of the secret  
language of our survivors' souls as  
they unfold each other's secret  
ballots--the ones where we voted  
for our first secret desires to come  
true--there's so much more  
I want to say to you--but for  
the first time in my life I'm at  
a loss for words--because  
(I understand at last)  
I don't need them  
to be heard by you.

"Forbidden Fruit" by Michael Lally, It Takes One to Know One, 2001, Black Sparrow Press.

*****

This is going to start out sad. Don't say I didn't warn you. I want to explain why I left you. I will also, of course, be explaining why I came back, my love, and why I never want to leave you again. But all that's later, Garak. Not Elim. Garak. I don't fully understand the odd relationship you have with your first name, but I expect it has something to do with the equally odd relationship you had with your father - he always called you "Elim," didn't he? So you never really called yourself that too often. I never called myself Jules either, so I do understand. I understand completely. 

On the other hand, there were many times, many nights, when I wanted some more intimate way to address you, some name to call you that only the two of us would use. And Elim seemed so perfect for that. Someday, we're going to claim it again, get it back, just for us. Did you know that "Elim" is an ancient Middle Eastern term from Earth, a Hebrew term? From thousands of years ago - do you recall hearing about the nomadic tribe known as the Israelites? They were making a pilgrimage from a kingdom in Egypt and were wandering in the desert and came to a place with twelve springs and with palm trees, date palms, and called it "Elim." I think it was pronounced a little differently, but still... Oh Garak, that name is so unintentionally appropriate - I was wandering too, and found you and was refreshed by you. Drank you up, really.

For a while, that is. For a while, until I couldn't live with the suspicion and the doubt any longer. I came to realize that I didn't want to go to bed with someone with blood on his hands, only to wake up and find the blood figuratively all over my body - and my soul too. Please believe me that I never went looking for reasons to condemn you. God knows I hurt you enough, in my own way, to ever feel I had the right to condemn you. But when the reasons were forced on me, I couldn't close my eyes. I never wanted to hurt you. I only wanted to love you. You stirred something in me that I didn't understand but that I wanted more than anything - you were handsome and beautiful and brave and intelligent and I adored you. Still do. Definitely still do - but I think you know that now. You'd better, or all that we just went through together meant nothing. All that you went through for me. Please forgive me for what I said to you then. I never wanted to hurt you.

I want to give you an example of my obsession with you that'll make you laugh, I hope. Do you remember sitting in Quark's that night, shortly before all this happened, when we were planning our holosuite visit to the Alamo, you at the table with Odo and O'Brien and me? Remember how impatient we made you with our silly requests for costumes? Forgive me, love, because I didn't know then how close you were to breaking - I didn't know how buried under a weight you were starring to feel. I remember telling you to "take a break." That word again. Yes, all would be well if you would just "take a break." Take a break from what? From your own mind? 

Anyway, you told us that we didn't realize how hard Starfleet was making you work, how much time it took to decode the Cardassian military transmissions and translate even "the simplest sentence." Remember that? The way you said "the simplest sentence," the way your mouth and your tongue and your lips pronounced those words, I wanted to grab you around the neck and kiss you there, in front of everyone, I was so entranced by you. Yes, even at a time like that! I looked down at the table and fidgeted and pretended to be disappointed. I wanted to bend you backwards over the table and trace my tongue around every part of your mouth, but I didn't. Isn't that terrifically indecent? You would have loved reprimanding me for that kind of talk in the old days - or now. But you seemed so preoccupied, so distant, as if you couldn't wait to get away from me. I suppose I WAS disappointed, actually, only not about the stupid costumes.

I doubt if you remember that I tried to get you to say those words, "the simplest sentence," later, when we were alone - I think you felt I was making fun of you in some way, so it's just as well if you don't. Very difficult, even when we were in bed, to ever get you to say anything you didn't decide to say on your own, or to do anything you didn't decide to do first. So how was I to know - never mind. Not yet. And besides, it's not as if I had some sort of bedroom agenda I insisted we follow, but, I mean, I couldn't understand what was so terrible about a little role-playing once in a while in bed. I couldn't understand why you were always so reluctant to do it back then. We were barely seeing each other at that point, barely even talking, so on those rare occasions when you suddenly showed up at the door of my room (it was always you coming to me) I wanted to make the most of it. I wanted to give you an exciting reason to seek me out, something different and shocking and enticing. 

It's not as if I ever asked you to verbally abuse me or actually injure me, I just wanted a little harmless fantasy once in a while. That's all it meant. I thought that you of all people would be open to that, you're so inventive with language and have such a vivid imagination. I thought you'd love the chance to escape into it with me. But you never seemed to understand then, or at least you pretended not to understand, the wish that some of us have to be overpowered, swept off our feet, dominated by another - you couldn't see why the element of coercion needed to be present if I really loved you and wanted you. And I'm so sorry that I didn't see then why it was so important to you that it not be.

"Why do you need to pretend to be forced, Julian? Don't you think that's a little insulting to me?"

"What?" I looked up at you, confused. And I had thought things had begun so well that night. You were in fine conversational form and were taking things much further, much faster, than even I was expecting during those tension-filled days. "Insulting? It's a game, Garak - it's fantasy. If anything, you should be extremely flattered that I trust you enough to ask you to play along. I never, never even considered doing this kind of thing with anyone else. Ever."

"Then why now, with me?"

"Because - oh, Garak, for God's sake, you're a Cardassian, you're exotic and powerful and I just think it would be fun! Just a little game - very silly! Meaningless, but fun. A change of routine. A way to forget what's really happening outside. I know you can see the difference between that and reality. And I'm offering it to you as a secret of mine, a secret just between the two of us."

"Doctor -" Oh oh, there we go - when you reverted to calling me "doctor" I knew I was in for it - that meant you were back in teaching mode, every time. Even in bed! "Doctor, approximately how many Cardassians would you say are involved in a sexual relationship with a human? Especially now, at a time like this? Hmm? Can you guess how many? Out of all the millions of Cardassians and humans in this galaxy?"

"Oh, I don't know..." I was beginning to sweat and was hoping more than anything that you'd just shut up and get on with it, but no, it was time for more conversation, I knew. "Ah... two? Three others?"

"Really? Just two or three? Which two or three?" Your eyes were really focused on me then, very intense, and I couldn't look away but couldn't think either. "Ah... some scientist, maybe?"

"Some scientist." You leaned back and I saw you smile, though you were still serious too. "So, in all of Cardassian and human experience, there might - just might - also be 'some scientist' involved sexually with a human."

"What's your point, Garak?" I sighed. This was going to be a long night. A very long night, and say good-bye, Doctor Bashir, to any promise of sex for most of it. I sighed again.

"My point is - virtually no humans and Cardassians ever become intimately involved the way we are. None. So do you really want one of the extremely rare sexual liaisons between a human and a Cardassian to involve threats and force? The Cardassian overpowering the human? Why can't it be loving and willing?"

"It IS loving and willing!" I protested. "The whole idea is for the other person, for me, to be totally convinced of being wanted, and that even if I resist, I'm still wanted. The idea is that you're so overcome with passion that you can't control yourself, that you can't help but overpower me no matter what I do or say to stop you. But I won't want to stop you. The idea is that -"

"The idea is that I'm going to play into every offensive Cardassian stereotype you humans have with this little game you're proposing tonight."

"Yes, and I bet you'll like it." I grinned, hoping you'd lighten up and grin back. You didn't. Wrong tactic. 

"Doctor, do you have a rape fantasy?"

"What?! Garak, that's not -" I was aghast. Pretended to be, anyway, I admit it now. Damn. Either you're that good, or I'm that transparent, one or the other. Probably both. Then again, it's not as if I ever kept the wish at all secret, did I... 

"I can't help but feel that you fantasize about, well... rape. After all, that always seems to be the end result of every one of these games you propose. Even now - what is it you want me to pretend to be doing?" As if you didn't remember. "My father would have understood. He would have loved the chance to take some poor human as prisoner for a purpose like this - I hate to disappoint you but I expect he would have preferred a female human - and if that prisoner weren't willing it would only give him a challenge. He'd make sure she was willing before he was finished, I have no doubt. He was certainly no Dukat, but he could be very persuasive in his own way."

"But that's it!" I made the mistake of crying out. I was not reading your body language, your signals. I was upset and perhaps a little desperate for closeness and escape and didn't even stop to think about what he had meant to you, the weight of memory I had shared with you in that prison. I ignored all that and plunged ahead, not heeding. "THAT is exactly the point, despite the term you're using - it's a fantasy of surrendering to the other. It's nothing at all like a real assault. You have no idea how much I want you, Garak. No idea!"

"Ah." You seemed to consider that for a second - had I won you over? "Yes. I see now. I understand completely. You've convinced me. Tonight, then, you shall call me Tain."

"Oh my God..." I groaned. "This is... Garak, I don't think..."

"Not God. Or Garak. Just Tain. Or Enabran. Your choice." You did smile then, but it wasn't one of your sincerely happy smiles - I only realized that later. I sighed again and made one of the biggest mistakes of my life so far in our relationship. I did what you asked. What in hell's name was I thinking? I called you Tain. 

Oh, and it was good that night. You said all the right things - you did all the right things. Told me I was going to be the apprentices' entertainment that night unless I submitted to you, told me it was time I paid for every smart-ass thing I ever said to you (and I still get a little shocked when I think of what I really did say to Enabran Tain,) told me that if I ever told Garak what we were doing right then, you'd find me and whip me right there on the Promenade, with my uniform around my knees. I absolutely loved it. I thought you did too. You certainly seemed to, when you forced me to my knees and told me to put my smart mouth to much better use - and I did. You loved it too. You seemed to, anyway - you were more ardent than you had been in a long while that night.

But you didn't come back again for weeks. And I had a sudden and truly horrifying insight, one I can't even say to you now, my love. Forgive me for my ignorance. I never knew.

*****

"Excuse me - is Mr. Garak here?" The young Cardassian woman peered hesitantly into the shop; Garak emerged from the workroom and stopped in surprised shock. The woman was in reality no more than a teenager, with a piercing gaze and straight dark auburn hair worn down the back of her neck. Her Kardasi was of the type that had been taught in the very finest schools; even in that brief moment, though, Garak could detect the hint of a decidedly lower-class pronunciation struggling to assert itself. Interesting. He smiled.

"I am Garak," he answered in equally flawless Kardasi. "How may I serve you?"

"Don't you even wish to know my name?"

"It's not proper to ask her name unless a lady offers it."

"Very true. But how many Cardassians come into your shop, Mr. Garak? Especially now at this unsettled time?"

"Few."

"Then I would have thought your curiosity would override your courtesy." Even in Kardasi, the two words were rather similar and Garak smiled even wider at the girl's cleverness. "If you must know, my name is Jil."

"Jill. A human name?"

"If you like. I prefer to think of it as a Cardassian name with a human parallel. I have no idea how they spell it in Standard." She strode further into the shop and began fingering one of the ornately embellished gowns displayed on a mannequin; Garak's smile remained fixed but he said nothing. "I've been aware of you and your shop for some time. I was hoping to purchase something for myself, but alas..."

"Alas?"

"Mr. Garak." Jil turned and faced him squarely. "I find you to be an extremely sexist man."

"Sexist?" Garak didn't have any idea whether to be amused or offended. He didn't even know this woman - this girl - and he hadn't heard the very seldom-used Kardasi term she had just invoked in many, many years. He was also dumbfounded by her attitude - barely two minutes in his shop and she seemed to be in total control of both herself and of him. He couldn't come up with a reply fast enough, yet he was intrigued beyond the need for words. So he waited.

"Yes, very much so. Your designs for women are all of dresses, skirts, highly traditional and conservative garments meant to place and keep women in strictly assigned roles. You have a preoccupation with the idealized female form but have no such interest in any actual females. Your associates are all male, your friends are male, even your lover is male."

Garak's smile faded. "Miss Jil - I must regretfully inform you that such information, whether true or false, is none of your business. Please refrain from speculating about things of which you have no knowledge, or I will ask to speak with your parents-"

"My parents are dead."

"Your - may I ask how you came to be here on the station, then? I can't believe you traveled here alone. You can't be more than fifteen or sixteen years old."

"Mr. Garak, such information, whether true or false, is none of your business." She scowled at him, then suddenly broke into a light tinkly laugh and moved forward to grasp his hand. "I like you even more than I thought I would! Let's try again. I was hoping you'd make me a jacket and a pair of pants. You do know how to fit pants on women, don't you? Something attractive that would allow for freedom of movement, just as a man would desire?" 

Garak inclined his head. "Women, yes. But you're not a woman yet. And if it's strictly utilitarian clothing you want, may I suggest the replicators, which would take very few credits to provide you with a satisfactory garment."

"Are you wondering if I can afford to pay you? Rest assured, I have sufficient resources. In fact, I'd like to treat you to lunch if you're willing. I can tell you all about my reasons for being here and about my parents, if you're interested. In fact, I think you just may be. I believe you knew my father."

Garak was beyond surprise at that point and stared inquiringly at her, finally asking, "Your father? Indeed?"

"Yes, you both worked in Intelligence - but he was in the military side of it."

Garak's mouth dropped open. The situation was incomprehensible - was he only imagining this self-assured young creature as she revealed his private life to him, aspect by aspect? Was this some bizarre post-wire hallucination left behind in his brain? "May I be so bold as to ask you your full name, Miss?"

"Yes you may. My name is Jil Orra Madred. I'm please to make your acquaintance at last, Elim Garak." She smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a full five seconds before Garak could reply. "You're Gul Madred's daughter? Here? Alone?" She nodded pleasantly. "How did you -"

"Let's just say I'm a poor Cardassian war orphan from Bajor and leave it at that. Oh, and while I trust you and your discretion implicitly, please call me 'Jil' when we're in public. I'm Jil Marek, you see, to everyone else." Garak bowed his head in acknowledgement..

"That still doesn't explain why you're here on the station, Miss - Marek."

"School holiday - intermediate stop on the way to my roommate's sister's wedding - whatever. Just make something up. I did."

Garak considered this. "That still doesn't answer my question."

"Would you believe me if I told you I came here to see you?" Garak shook his head. "I thought you wouldn't. But I did." She giggled, almost childlike. "I've known about you for a long time. My father talked about you frequently. He admired you a great deal. So I've wanted to meet you, especially now before the Union falls and Cardassia reverts to who knows what sort of anarchy." 

That still didn't completely answer him either, especially the avowal of Madred's admiration - the frequency, however, he could believe - but Garak gamely followed her along the winding conversational path. "You have no faith in Cardassia's future."

"Very little. None, really. Neither did my father."

"May I ask - if it wouldn't cause you offense or pain -"

"He died fighting for Cardassia. I'd like to leave it at that. My mother died some years ago, in fact when I was only five years old. I was raised by my father for all intents and purposes - oh, and a succession of housekeepers. But I don't think I really need to tell you anything about what that was like, do I." It wasn't a question, and Garak flinched. He was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable, but couldn't deny that the girl was at the same time decidedly intriguing him; he was fascinated to discover what would next come out of her mouth. 

It was somewhat of a Federation myth that Cardassians flirted via insults and arguments - it was far more the case that flirtation consisted of constantly surprising the other, gaining the upper hand, invading one's mental territory, exhibiting power and control. And Jil Orra - Jil - that mere child, really - was undoubtedly flirting with him. He was, despite himself, highly amused. It didn't hurt that she was attractive in somewhat of a boyish way; while she wore her hair long, she exhibited no other girlish affectations and her gaze was level and direct. Lunch with her would be an extremely pleasant little interlude. Oh certainly, she was far too young to even be taken seriously as a friend, much less an inamorata, but she was entertaining in an enjoyable, dangerous fashion and Garak relished the challenge of finding out just how far she intended to push him. 

He cleared his throat. "This could go on all day - this revealing of my deepest, darkest secrets - but I believe our time would be better spent discussing your clothing order over lunch. MY treat, since you're a new customer." Jil smiled.

"Oh, I think revealing your deepest darkest secrets would take much more than a day. But all right. Where would you suggest we go? The Klingon restaurant?"

"Certainly not. The replimat. My usual table is undoubtedly waiting." He extended his arm and she took it happily.

*****

I didn't make that mistake again, Garak. At least I can give myself that much credit. And I didn't push you or rush you. I waited. After two weeks, you came back. One night, I was lying in bed, almost asleep, and heard the faintest whisper at my door, as if someone were brushing it with his fingertips. I sat up and watched as you entered the room. Do you remember how you stood for a while, gazing at me? Your eyes were haunted, in a way - I felt a little afraid of you. I braced myself for reprimands, accusations, bitterness at the way I had failed you, at how I didn't understand you and was using you to heal my own pain. But you said absolutely nothing, simply sat down near the bed and slowly slipped out of your boots, then your tunic, then slid under the blanket still wearing everything else, including your thermal clothing. Yet you were shivering so hard that the mattress shook slightly. I gathered you into my arms and also said nothing; I buried my face against your neck. 

Then I saw it. The faintest impression, the lightest semicircle, but it was definitely a bite. Even in the dark, my eyes were so close to your neck that I could see it in the faint light from the window and the emergency panel. Someone had bitten you, someone with a rather small mouth and no doubt a gentle touch - but it was still a bite. I closed my eyes, and do you remember what I did then? I kissed it. 

I was sure you must have known it was there - how could you not know, as the neck ridges are one of the most sensitive places on a male Cardassian's body - but what I was not sure of was whether you were displaying it to me, daring me to mention it, or whether you had forgotten it was there. Either way, I tried to do what I felt was the right thing. I kissed it, I kissed you, I began to administer my own - much gentler and virtually invisible - bites on all the ridges up and down that side of your neck. You nearly purred with pleasure and it took very little effort after that to subsequently divest you of your undershirt. 

The next morning, I awoke in the manner I most loved - snug against you, my head on your chest under your chin, our arms around each other, our legs entwined. You must have awoken at some point during the night, though, because I noticed the air was much warmer than I usually kept it - you must have adjusted it. Even better. I had no plans for the morning, none at all - we could take a relaxing hot shower together, perhaps go back to bed for another hour or two, have a late breakfast in my quarters, maybe listen to some music afterward and just lie in the bed and talk. Finally. I leaned up on one arm and kissed you, on the lips, waking you. Strange, that you were sleeping that soundly, but one more kiss and you were definitely mine. You opened your eyes.

"Good morning, my love," I breathed. "Welcome back." In answer, you pulled me back down and kissed me too - unbearably sweet. Then you closed your eyes again and I resumed my position tight against your side. "What would you like to do this morning? I don't have to be anywhere, or do anything for anybody." 

You smiled. "Then I suggest we stay here. As long as we can."

I nodded. 

"However - I do need to get up for just a little while..." You slowly sat up, absently rubbing your neck. Rubbing the scar. It brought me back to reality very quickly - someone had recently marked you in that way, someone perhaps still on the station. Someone who had been taking up your time for the past several weeks - yet I had absolutely no indication of whom that could be. 

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind a shower, actually."

You rose from the bed and I followed you into the living area, switching on the lights as I went. We paused and stood, naked, near the mirror mounted close to the bathroom door - your hand suddenly moved up to the bite, very obvious now in the brighter overhead lights. You stared at it, mystified, then said "Please excuse me," hurriedly pulled your clothing back on, and left without another word. Leaving me to stare at your retreating back, and already grieving for the morning we wouldn't be sharing. Were you angry or upset - or were you just suffering guilt at what you realized I saw? At that point, my love, I didn't know. I only knew you had never in your life simply walked away from me like that - well, never quite that abruptly, even recently. I almost wanted to follow you, call you back. But I was afraid to. 

I received the first message that same day.

*****

Garak stood outside Jil Orra's room, fingers on the door chime, face near the comm unit. "Miss Jil - Miss Jil," he quietly but urgently whispered into it, "I need to speak with you. Immediately." He waited, then tried again - the same message. After another moment or two, the door slid open and Jil stood a few meters from it, beckoning him inside.

Her hair was disheveled and it appeared as if she had just risen from bed, as the blankets were in disarray; she herself was clad only in a nightshirt that reached almost to her knees and a pair of evidently hand-knit socks. "Garak!" she greeted him, surprised, "you're calling awfully early - I'm not sure if it's proper for you to be in my quarters when I'm not dressed."

"I'll explain to you what's not proper," he growled, brushing past her into the room. "THIS is not proper." He pulled at the collar of his tunic to show her the bite, at the edge of his neck almost at the shoulder.

"Oh, I agree! A love bite from your boyfriend! How shocking but how wonderfully territorial of him! But I fail to understand why you're showing it to me."

"Damn your ridiculous adolescent games," Garak seethed. Jil looked gratifyingly surprised; the actual Kardasi curse he had used was much stronger than 'damn' and was seldom, if ever, directed at a woman. "You obviously did this last night. You marked me while I slept."

"Marked you?! On your neck? Me?" she challenged him, her eyes flashing. Garak nodded. "And just how could I have accomplished that? Biting you there would have hurt you a fair amount; even I know that. You'd have woken up at the very least, possibly even cried out. Either my teeth are that soft or you're lying." She smirked. "You only discovered it this morning, after a night in your doctor's arms - and yet you assume it was me. I'll bet he bites you all over the place."

Garak didn't answer. Bashir had indeed bitten him, he recalled, and quite thoroughly, but he barely felt the teeth then, only his lover's soft lips moving up and down the line of scales. Impossible, that one of the bites would have left such a vivid scar... He tried to recall the events of the previous evening. He and Jil had eaten dinner in the replimat, as had become their rather usual custom; after their first lunch together, they had begun to meet more and more often, but always in public, usually at the replimat. The doctor never seemed to venture there as frequently any more and had never seen the two of them together, a fact which had begun to give Garak some measure of relief. He didn't want it to appear that he was simply attaching himself out of sorrow to another Ziyal; he relished the interaction with the Madred girl and was less and less inclined to answer questions or to field speculations about her.

And last evening, something subtle had changed. After dinner, he found it more difficult than usual to say good-bye to her at the door of her quarters; her face wore the look of lonely introspection that it always wore when she was anticipating a solitary evening, and he could no longer simply ignore it. He still had very little idea why she was on the station at all, much less traveling alone and seemingly without a single friend or companion to occupy her time; he had been solitary as a youth too but had never journeyed out on his own among the adult world to that extent. Jil was fond of saying she was "waiting" for something, that she was "stopping there" temporarily, but that was as far as her explanations ever went. 

So that evening, Garak agreed to go inside for a few minutes, to enjoy a cup of tea before she slept and to keep her company for a while longer. She curled up on the sofa next to him and began to tell him a story in her soothing voice, something about a small boat and a wide sea and her father cradling her in his arms while the waves splashed over the sides of the boat, terrifying her. Talking about her father caused tears to well up at the corners of her eyes, then spill down her cheeks, and Garak was moved with compassion for her, so alone and vulnerable with her false bravado and her melancholy face. 

Scarcely knowing what he was doing, he turned to her and coaxed her onto his lap, where she clung to his neck, resting her head on his chest. He patted her shoulder and felt her relax against him, as he too began to relax, then drift off into sleep, his regular breathing mingling with hers. He awoke several hours later, he sensed; Jil was lying in her own bed, under the blankets, again asleep. He quietly stood and let himself out of her room, then immediately made his way to Bashir's quarters, suddenly feeling the need for comfort and love himself. He hoped he could find what he needed there. And, as always, he did.

But Bashir had definitely not marked him in such a Cardassian fashion, he was certain. So how then had Jil done so, without waking him? Just how innocent was this young girl? She continued to smirk at him, then turned and walked back to the bed. "I still say it's not proper for you to be here now. What would your boyfriend say? What would anyone say, if they found you here, with me in my pajamas, my bed all messy, and your clothing half unfastened?" She said it with a slight note of thrill in her voice, Garak was aware - but he had patience with that. She was, after all, only sixteen and really had no idea of what it could mean to be alone with him. This was simply a young girl having a bit of daring verbal fun. Still, she had a point and Garak moved back toward the door.

"I'll speak with you later. I'm not pleased with this situation and I'm not sure I accept your explanation. We can talk further at lunch - at the Klingon restaurant." It would be very noisy there and difficult for their conversation to be overheard. "I'll see you at 1300 hours, all right?"

She nodded and said nothing more. Garak stood in the corridor until the door had closed, watching her - the last thing he saw were her eyes closing - in sorrow? Or in relief that he was leaving so quickly?


	3. Chapter 3

I had seldom seen anything so horrible, Garak. And I've seen some very bad things in my career, things I've been unable to completely purge from my memory. But this - little children lying in the road, tiny little bodies covered with dirt and blood, two of the bodies so mangled that I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. And underneath the image, in neat black letters in both Bajoran and Federation Standard: "Bomb aftermath. School, Kendra Province, Bajor, 2365. Attributed to E. Garak."

Now, please let me explain that we were in a time of war, of course, and I also knew that your past wasn't as white as snow - in other words, I wasn't some wide-eyed innocent suddenly confronted with the reality of violence and death. Yes, the image was more disturbing than many I had seen, but I think what affected me the most was the fact that it had been sent to me, and as far as I could tell, me alone. Someone had deliberately sent it, someone with access not only to Bajoran security files but to the fact that you and I were friends. Well, much more than friends, but that wasn't necessarily at issue - simple friendship was enough to have singled me out. We were targeted - I was, and you were, with something that terrible. Why now? 

You don't even need to ask me the next question - I obviously checked for the source of the message, I opened the origination files and examined them, I even used my medical overrides to probe further into the station's communications array than I really had any right to do - and there was nothing. It was as if the image had been sent to me from some alternate reality - but I knew enough about alternate realities to even doubt that.

If I hadn't been so puzzled by your recent behavior, so isolated from you and what you were really feeling, I would have enlisted your help. I would have shown you the message - no, on second thought, I wouldn't. No, I definitely wouldn't. I had told you, all those years ago, that I forgave you "for whatever it is you did." So I wouldn't then have accusingly thrust graphic images into your face - "See this, Garak? Do you have an explanation? Where did this come from? Were you involved in this?" I think a small part of me, too, was already doubting any explanation you'd come up with - I suppose I was finally getting too tired of the lies. I was becoming less interested in trying to decipher the real story from your fabrications - I myself had been fabricating stories for Starfleet and for you for years and I was finished with all that. Time to move on, as they say - time to stop lying. 

And the message itself may have been a lie. Some random atrocity that my anonymous informant decided to ascribe to you, for whatever reason. I could have cleared it all up, perhaps, by just asking you, but of course I didn't. I didn't want to hear that the message was true. Your eyes would have told me the truth even if you denied it. We had learned to read each other that well, at least, in all these years. I had learned to love your beautiful eyes - they were indeed your most unerringly honest feature.

*****

Jil had cried during lunch in the Klingon restaurant - cried at being "picked on" and doubted and accused. Garak, embarrassed at the attention their table was receiving despite the noise and commotion, tried ineffectually to quiet her, then promised her he would drop the subject and walk her back to her room. He did so, Jil sniffling as she walked. 

"How can you accuse me of something that disgusting? Biting you while you slept?" she whimpered as they walked alone down the corridor. "Mr. Garak, I don't even have a boyfriend - I've never even touched another male in my life except for my father!"

Well, and except for me, Garak thought, recalling the previous evening, Jil curled up in his lap. She had evidently forgotten that.

"I know you deal with all kinds of women in your line of work, probably prostitutes and everything," she moaned, nevertheless giving him an arch look. "You think all women act that way. You're so -"

"Sexist?"

"I was going to say jaded, but sexist too. All women are NOT out to get you, Mr. Garak. Or to take advantage of you." They had reached her room and, against his better judgement, Garak again followed her inside.

"Then let's just forget it. I think I'm probably making a bigger issue of this than it needs to be. I'm sorry to have upset you." She nodded, somewhat appeased, and sat down on the sofa while Garak stood near the door. "Miss Jil... I know this is probably going to seem like prying, but I find I'm becoming more and more concerned about you. No one seems to know you're here, you're obviously missing school, you seem to have no friends on the station, and I have no idea how you're paying for all this." He gestured toward the spacious guest quarters. "While I'm happy to have made your acquaintance and to be spending time with you, I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps I should be alerting someone to your whereabouts. Have you..."

"Yes?"

"Have you run away from somewhere, or from someone?" 

"Mr. Garak." She assumed a purposeful tone. "I've already told you. I came here to meet you. My father has always spoken so highly of you that I wanted to see this 'Elim Garak' for myself before the Dominion War took him, or Cardassia, away. Took us all away to who knows where."

"Jil Orra." Garak sat down next to her and locked eyes with hers. "Your father heartily disliked me. In fact, he blamed me for sabotaging his position with Central Command intelligence - I exposed instances of questionable behavior and more than a few instances of gratuitous cruelty. I don't mean to dishonor his memory, and I certainly don't wish to impugn your memories of him as a loving father, but I must be honest. Your father, Gul Madred, most emphatically did not like me." 

Jil blinked once or twice, stared blankly into Garak's face, and then grinned. "Perhaps he only wanted you to think that. Isn't it possible that he may have respected you more than he ever admitted?"

"That's highly doubtful, as he had difficulty even respecting my father, who himself had more than one confrontation with him."

Jil blinked again. "Then - then why would he tell me of his admiration for you? Why would he lie? He told me of all the noble things you did for Cardassia, how you and your father were examples of patriotism and loyalty that we should all learn to follow. Why would he have such praise for you if he hated you?" 

Garak considered for a moment; the girl seemed entirely sincere, guileless even. So perhaps she was telling the truth, not simply trying to flatter him to gain his companionship - or more. "Perhaps he respected the ideals the Order stood for more than the actual organization itself. Or - perhaps he simply wanted to make sure you always respected your elders, whatever his private opinion of them." He smiled, and she smiled back. "I need to return to my shop - I have a little work I need to finish. Tonight, though, may I bring dinner here?" He was becoming less and less inclined to be seen publicly with Jil Orra until he could do some further research on her. 

She nodded, pleased, and he added, "I apologize for what I said about your father. None of us are perfect, Jil - your father had much to overcome in his life but he obviously knew how to be a good father to a very devoted daughter." He stepped toward her and kissed her very lightly on the cheek. Kissing was not a Cardassian custom and he realized, too late, that she would probably read more into the gesture than he had intended. Ah well. She needed some cheering up after his harsh words, and after all, sixteen was at the very edge of Cardassian womanhood. It wasn't as if he were guilty of romancing a child.

He, in fact, was not romancing her at all - he found it ironic that daughters of two of his more colorful enemies should seek him out and find him worthy of their attention. And, as a Cardassian, and a rather traditionally chivalrous one at that, he couldn't abandon the role of protector to a young Cardassian female even though he had never sought that role. 

He spent the afternoon researching Jil Orra's past, in as much detail as he could manage given his limited access and the current political situation on Cardassia. He found both her history and her cover story to be exactly as she described them - Jil Marek, war orphan on Bajor, lived a parallel life to Jil Orra Madred, daughter of Gul Doram Madred, widowed a dozen years ago and then declared missing in action after a shuttle accident last year while returning to Cardassia Prime, Jil Orra his only survivor. All hands had been lost, sucked out into the vacuum of space, and no bodies were ever recovered. What a way to mourn one's father. Garak, at least, had been able to see his father face his end and know exactly how that end had come - even a monster deserved to meet his ultimate fate with someone there to see him off.

He shuddered. Tain and Madred, together again - the afterlife must indeed be filled with terrors, if it accepted such arrivals.

*****

I wasn't terribly surprised, the following morning, to find another image waiting for me at the comm unit - this one was of a young Bajoran woman who had been tortured to death. I couldn't even bring myself to glance more than a second at it before I deleted it - yes, Garak, I know I should have saved those messages as evidence or at least as clues, but I absolutely couldn't. Again the words "Elim Garak" stood out at me, along with a date at some point in the 2360's - I forget the exact details. There was also an additional phrase this time, one that I realized was there as soon as I saw it disappearing from my screen, something like "Your friend" before the Elim Garak. Too late to get it back. Just as well.

I saw you in your shop as I walked past it - I confess that I had fabricated an excuse to walk by - but you were with a customer and I didn't have the nerve to enter and interrupt you. I did, however, have the nerve to send you a message when I arrived at my desk, asking you if you were interested in lunch that day. You never replied. But that night, again, there you were at the door of my quarters, silently letting yourself in as I woke from sleep. I shifted over in the bed to give you room, but I was slightly put out at your recent avoidance of me and didn't even turn to face you.

"Julian... Julian, my love," you whispered against the back of my neck, "I'm sorry. I miss you." I didn't answer at first. "I've been so busy..." I let out a very short but obvious bark of laughter. You said nothing and I was sure you were about to leave. But you never moved. Finally, a few minutes later, "There's so much happening now. I've been trying so hard. I want you back."

I turned so I could see you, in the half-darkness. "I know you do. I never stopped wanting you. I know what you're dealing with." You seldom mentioned the therapy sessions with Ezri to address, once and for all, your attacks of claustrophobia; I doubted they were going well, if they were indeed taking place at all, but I never pressed you. I assumed that's what you meant then, that and your work for Starfleet, but your words were so vague that I really didn't know. However, I did smile very slightly and tried to ease the tension between us. "And besides, what is it they always say? 'Abstinence' makes the heart grow fonder? Then we must be quite fond of each other nowadays."

You smiled too at the mis-quote and I turned even more so I could fully face you - your kiss was sudden, wonderful and deep. I clung to you almost as if for support, even though I was lying on my back. In fact, for a moment there, I almost thought you were trying to devour me and I struggled to catch my breath. But then you pulled away and looked me directly in the eye, while I lay panting, staring up at you. 

"Let's play a game."

"A - a game? Really? Now?"

"Yes." You held my head in both your hands and leaned down so your lips were just a few centimeters from my mouth. "Yes, really. Now. I want you to do something for me, Julian."

"Anything," I sighed, gazing, mesmerized, at you, into your eyes. 'Anything,' of course, was an exaggeration, but I was transfixed by your change in mood and was now barely breathing.

"I want you to pretend it's your very first time. With anyone, ever. Will you?"

"Of course," I murmured. "My Garak..." I reached up and drew you close. "I'm scared. I'm scared it'll hurt. But I want you so badly." And the oddest thing was that the words were part of the game and at the same time completely, absolutely true.


	4. Chapter 4

Garak approached the door of Jil Orra's quarters only to find it locked and his signal unanswered. He stood, puzzled, for a minute or two in the corridor, wondering if he should give in to his urge to go inside and look around just a little, or if he should simply wait. He waited, fortunately, because a few seconds later, Jil came jogging rapidly toward him from the opposite direction, slightly out of breath.

"Garak! I'm glad I didn't miss you. I was in the gym and took a little longer than I had intended. I was in one of the simulators."

"The simulators?" he asked as they entered the room, where he deposited the dinner containers on the table.

"Yes, those booths - compartments - in the back of the gym. I was out running in space - among the stars! Fabulous! Those can be programmed as antigrav units too - have you ever tried one?"

"No, never. I'll be honest, I never even paid much attention to them - I would never have been able to go inside one."

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid I suffer from a slight bit of claustrophobia. Nothing too serious, but I tend to stay out of small, enclosed spaces when I can."

"I see." She stood and regarded him. "Quite surprising, in a way, if you don't mind me saying so. You were a top agent - I would have thought you could handle anything."

That was just the faintest bit insulting and Garak felt himself bristle. "Yes, well, we can't all be as perfect as - Never mind. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. That was very rude of me. I simply meant that I know you did a lot of brave things - I didn't realize you had extra challenges to overcome. I wonder why you..."

For some reason, Garak felt the need to elaborate. Perhaps it was the girl's positive opinion of Tain that rankled him, he wasn't quite sure. "My father, loyal and patriotic as he most decidedly was, was not as loving a father as you yourself were granted."

"I see," she replied again, watching him. "I know I shouldn't ask..."

"Let's not talk about it - I don't know why I mentioned it. Let's start our dinner - I'm very happy to enjoy a real Cardassian meal again with someone who can truly appreciate it!" He smiled and she smiled back. Taking the role of host and perhaps even of father, he set out the food, fussed over the place settings, served her and insisted she try one of the more unfamiliar dishes "because it was so good for her." Jil let herself be tended to, and after dinner, she curled up again on the sofa next to him while they watched a holovid of Cardassia, recorded long before the war. 

Garak absently began stroking her hair in a most un-fatherly way, then realized what he was doing and stopped. She sidled closer to him and drew his arm around her slender shoulders - he didn't move. There was an inevitability, though, to the events that were unfolding, and Garak sensed it keenly - he was sure Jil Orra sensed it as well. Tonight, or in a very few nights, they were going to be much closer and there seemed to be almost nothing he could do to stop it. Had the girl sought him out for exactly this reason, for protection sealed by a physical union, one he would feel obligated to honor? Was her loneliness really that profound that she would be willing to take a middle-aged, disgraced Intelligence operative as a partner, even one who harbored a deep dislike of the late father she so adored? 

She obviously knew a great deal about him already - no doubt Madred had filled her in before his death, as she seemed incapable of finding out these pieces of information on her own. And much of what she told him about himself was not flattering, but then she always in the next breath professed great admiration for him and a wish to be near him. It was extremely bewildering even for him, trained as he was to search for hidden motivations in others. But he too was lonely, exhausted by the war and the struggles to assist his homeworld while simultaneously betraying it, fighting off a whole army of personal demons and, inexplicably, fighting against the concern Bashir tried to show him. It was as if he felt more than ever unworthy of love and concern, especially from those who knew him best. 

Jil Orra, however, barely knew him even though she professed to know a great deal. He was a different person with her - he was a man who had not been raised by a monster but by a misguided, damaged soul who nevertheless must have loved him as Madred loved his daughter. 

And now they were both alone, brought together by some strange force to share this little time on the station while the war raged on and Cardassia continued its descent. His arm tightened around Jil's shoulders - she glanced over at him, surprised, but didn't pull away. He realized then that he was beginning a dangerous descent himself, and he awkwardly dislodged his arm and stood. "My dear, I'm going to be leaving. Your father would not have approved of my spending so much time alone with you here. You're still a child, after all." 

"I'm sixteen," she faltered, staring up at him with wide and suddenly hopeful eyes. "On Cardassia, girls get married at sixteen."

"Girls with their parents' permission, and even then, not often," he said. "As you've also told me, this situation could look improper to outsiders who don't know us. I'll see you tomorrow." He moved toward the door.

"Please don't go. Please stay with me," she pleaded, uncharacteristically wistful as she reached for his arm. 

He hesitated. "Jil Orra - listen to me. I was afraid something like this would happen. I know you're lonely here and I think it would be best for you to go back to school and to the people who are - caring for you." He didn't know how else to put it. Jil had told him she had a distantly-related 'aunt' and 'uncle' who provided her with a nominal home, but she said virtually nothing else about them and he didn't even know their names. 

"I will - I'm due to leave in six days." At last - an actual plan; Garak had been afraid she was going to stay indefinitely and use up every one of her credits in the process. On the other hand, that meant his time with her would likewise end in six days and, as he looked into her dark blue eyes, he felt a pang in his heart. There was something appealing after all in being needed in this way, in being known for exactly who and what he was and still desired. Bashir, in all these years, had really only skimmed the surface of his past and of his childhood; Jil Orra might not know the details but she knew the substance of what his life must have been like and she wasn't at all afraid of him. Against all his better judgement, against every voice of caution in his head, he sank back down and reached for her.

He had been well schooled by Bashir in the art of kissing, so his experience with the girl was quite disorienting at first; he knew that Jil, especially being so young and a Cardassian, would have had almost no experience with that activity, especially not in that way. But he was at a loss as to how to proceed, with her lips resolutely and firmly pressed together. Still, she made the most encouraging little sighs of contentment and he decided that he really didn't need to go much further anyway - what was he trying to do, after all? Bed her? 

Her mouth was small, her lips like two segments of fruit, soft and pliable and sweet. He missed Bashir's full, willing mouth and the passionate way he sometimes took charge when they kissed - Garak could revel in the feel of that mouth, that tongue, for hours. Kissing Jil Orra was like kissing a delicate and somewhat timid flower - but on the other hand, any physical contact at all was appealing to him then, and her embrace was all he needed to encourage him. He felt arousal begin to grow, and gently started to pull her closer, angling his body so he could also move a little above her at the same time. She didn't resist but she did nothing, absolutely nothing, to encourage him either, and he suddenly realized that she was probably becoming frightened; he relaxed his hold somewhat, but cradled her head against the arm of the sofa and continued to kiss her. 

He eventually reached the point, slowly and inexorably, when he needed to make a decision. A swift retreat was probably the safest possible one, but Jil had finally begun to respond to him more boldly and he found he was unable to cease his contact with her. However, he had never in his life made love to a woman so much younger than he was - for that matter, he had never made love to a girl this young at all, no matter his age. He could only imagine how painful it would be for her, how unlike the soothing embrace he knew she was craving. What she needed was comfort, and he also knew he could provide that. What he hadn't already learned in his past life, Bashir had taught him - oh, not in the same manner, but the idea was the same, the slow loving pace and the relaxed exploration. He could give her that without hurting her. He slid down until he was close to her waist, then reached for her soft black trousers.

As soon as he put his hand on the waistband and began to roll them down, kissing her lower abdomen as he did so, she stiffened and threw her head back against the arm of the sofa, crying out, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Are you going to - oh, I don't think you should! I'm not ready! Garak, I'm not - well, I mean, I was at the gym - all I did was change clothes -"

"Shh," Garak reassured her. "You're perfectly lovely and you smell delicious. Just let me take care of you. Just this once." She was as tense as a statue and didn't squirm, didn't even move, until Garak kissed the inside of her thigh close to her moistening body; she started to gently thrash against the sofa, again calling out, "Oh! Oh I can't - this is so em-" Garak smiled against her and placed both hands on her hips, holding her in place. But when she felt the first warm touch of his tongue, she bucked wildly upward and tried to squeeze her legs together - Garak pressed down on her thighs and deepened the kiss, his tongue gently and slowly stroking her, then entering the place he dared not explore with his body. 

Jil panted loudly and nearly screamed, but not only from passion; "Oh! Oh, that tickles!" she giggled breathlessly, causing Garak to smile again. Bashir had never told him that. He doubted he'd be able to bring her full to completion that first time; Cardassian women were notorious for being slow to achieve orgasm, ironic since Cardassian men had such a capacity for multiple climaxes, no doubt for that very reason. But he could at least make sure she experienced more than a few glimmers of pleasure. She had reached for him and held him tightly around the ears; it was somewhat painful so he reached up to guide her hands to his shoulders instead. Much better, in many ways.

When he had gone as far as he had intended to go, he drew back, helped her sit up and rearrange her clothing, and held her around the waist as they walked to the bed. He turned away while she modestly undressed and donned a nightshirt, and then he tucked her into the bed with a kiss and a caress of his hand on her forehead, smiling at her and kissing her again. He left her quarters and didn't even stop at his own - he again needed comfort, reassurance, and the knowledge that he was truly wanted, that he hadn't made a mistake, that he hadn't taken advantage of anyone through his own need and loneliness. His mind was in a turmoil. He wanted to surrender fully and have his lover surrender fully to him - he wanted Bashir. And only Bashir. 

*****

I did what you asked, and while your request was a little unusual, it was nothing we hadn't already explored. I loved the fact that you felt you could ask me something like that, that we could indulge in these fantasies with each other without judgement or hesitation or any need to explain. You wanted me to be innocent, untouched, totally devoted to you. I understood perfectly, and wished you only knew how close that was to being the truth. Oh Garak, I have never, never, come close to sharing with anyone what I've shared with you. 

Sometimes it almost scared me, how intense were my feelings for you - what was I going to do if you didn't share them? What would I do if you left? But I was secure in the knowledge that you had never even hinted at other relationships like ours, in the past and definitely not currently; you seemed as focused on me as I was on you. Oh, certainly you were distracted lately, preoccupied with the war and with your personal struggles, but we ourselves were a unit, unbreakable and indivisible - we had a bond, and someday I knew we'd re-establish that bond more strongly than it had ever been.

Until I saw you in the replimat the next day, having lunch with a very young and very attractive Cardassian woman, then kissing her lingeringly before you both disappeared from view down the corridor.

I also received two more messages about you that same morning. This time, I didn't delete them for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

I decided I needed to confront you at last. Well, "confront" may be too strong a word. Clear the air. Talk things out. Of course, once I decided to do that, there was no way I could calmly decide when and how to do it. I also struggled a great deal with the thought that I'd be confronting you about two completely different issues, of vastly different degrees of seriousness and complexity. The first one, honestly, was plain old-fashioned jealousy and resentment. I know we had been fairly distant of late, had spent more time making love than actually talking, and since we almost never talked, that wasn't saying much for our time in bed. But I still couldn't comprehend how a young Cardassian woman could just blithely appear on the station, at this time of war, and befriend you with you never mentioning that fact to me. And the way you kissed her as you left the replimat - that wasn't at all Cardassian, it was as if you were trying to... I have to say it, Garak. Trying to teach her to give you what I gave you. 

Yes, I was jealous. She was just a child, really! How could you suddenly behave that way toward a mere child? Or is that, after all, what you wanted, a child who would know nothing else but you, your habits, your likes, your stories... My God, had I become, over the last few years, someone with perhaps too many secrets after all, someone with a darker side than you were willing to accept in your search for escape from your own dark side? Why not, then, I suppose, start with innocence and purity and never lead her down that path at all?

And yet, was she really so innocent? Yes, I was looking for conspiracies all over the place then, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that a new love interest of yours, appearing at the same time as the mysterious messages telling me of the secrets of your past, was perhaps too much of a coincidence. And there was the fact, too, that it was plainly she who had bitten you. But I had never even met this girl, didn't even know she was on the station - how could she possibly know me? And so young, too - I had a feeling she was no more than eighteen. Not quite the age to be ferreting out Bajoran occupation stories and anonymously sending them off to Starfleet personnel, using private security codes. So could it instead have been...

No. Not you. Please, not you, I silently begged. Why would you do that? Why would you condemn yourself in my eyes, after trying so long to redeem yourself instead? What were you trying to tell me? That I should give up on you, after all this time? Or that the Federation should? Did you want someone else, did you want ME, to remove you from the work you were doing for us and against your own people? But, Garak, I never thought you were harming your own people - no one did. You were a patriot; after all the years of Cardassian military rule and, as you put it later, "aggression," you were at last SAVING them. Was it too late for you, though, to save yourself?

But that led to the second reason for confronting you. For, after all, if you had done what the messages said you had done, if you had truly been the person who, without remorse, committed the atrocities that you were accused of committing, then you may have been a prime resource for the Federation to exploit, you may indeed have been a brilliant and skilled instrument to help bring the Dominion to its knees - but you would no longer have been my lover. I could no longer close my eyes. Forgive me - it was only later that Sisko (yes, Sisko) helped me to realize I didn't have to.

I decided to bite the bullet, as they say, and look for you in your shop.

***** 

Jil Orra's shyness at lunch the next day was charming; Garak wasn't used to, or even expecting, such a reaction the day after a sexual encounter; he had to remind himself that this was not only a sixteen-year-old he was dealing with, but also undoubtedly a virgin, although he had never directly asked her that. So her furtive glances and then embarrassed smiles thoroughly captivated him, and when he took her arm after lunch and kissed her on the lips, he was thrilled to feel her body tense against him and then melt. It was as if he were suddenly twenty years younger - no, thirty years younger, with a sweet young girl devoted to him and expecting nothing more from him than simple affection. He did not, of course, love her. He felt nothing for her beyond that same affection. His soul, his passion, he surrendered only to Bashir.

But he felt less and less claim on Bashir, no longer sure if Bashir truly wanted him. He caught a fleeting glimpse of him near the replimat but all he saw in the young man's eyes was annoyance. So he walked Jil Orra to the gym, where she seemed to spend an inordinate amount of her free time, and then headed back to his shop for a few hours of work; in fact, he was making another outfit for her to take back home, a sort of parting gift and remembrance of him all in one. He barely even heard the door hiss open, so preoccupied was he with thoughts of the girl.

"Garak." Bashir's voice was cold but not threatening. Quite neutral, in fact. "I'd like to talk to you."

"Now?" Garak looked up, hopefulness warring with resignation. This did not sound promising.

"Of course, now. That's why I'm here."

"Then, by all means -"

"Were you involved in the bombing of the elementary school in Kendra Province?"

"WHAT?!" Garak froze as if in shock.

"You heard me."

"Doctor -"

"Were you, or were you not, a torturer?"

"No, I was not." He slowly stood up to face his accuser. His instincts at least had gotten the roles correct and he quickly assumed his part. He had been startled out of complacency many times by accusations and reprisals - this was just one more incident, then, after all. He sighed.

"You're lying."

"You asked me the question and I answered you. I did not torture. I searched for information."

"Same thing."

"Not at all." He and Bashir stared silently at each other.

"Did you bomb that school? With all those children inside?"

"That was many, many years ago, doctor..."

"So you did."

"I set the explosives. We were told the school would be on holiday - it was meant as a warning; the school was being used occasionally as a Resistance base. We were misled by the Resistance so it would instead become much more of a Cardassian atrocity."

"You? Misled? The Bajorans would not kill their own children."

"Neither did I, doctor." His gaze was direct and unwavering; Bashir finally looked away. "May I ask why you're coming in here now to confront me with these stories? Surely you've been aware of this part of my past for many years - you've heard me speak of it many times."

"Not really. No. You've dropped clever little hints here and there, said you picked things up 'reading books' or 'hemming trousers.' Garak, those stories you told me years ago when you were sick - those were all real, weren't they? All of them?"

"No, doctor." Garak had begun to raise his voice. "As you said, I was very ill. I would have said anything to get you away from me, to let me die. I only realized later how much I wanted to live. And how much I wanted you to - to want me to live." He faltered over the last few words.

Bashir didn't answer, but let his gaze drift over to the jumpsuit on which Garak had been working. "Who's that for?"

"A - a customer."

"A young one, I would think - a girl." Garak nodded uncertainly at the change in conversational direction. "What's her name?"

"Whose?"

"Your friend's. Your customer's. The girl I saw you kissing."

"Ah. So that's what this is about." Garak didn't smile but he felt himself very slightly relax. Bashir, however, remained tense and agitated. "Would you please sit down so we could talk calmly about -" 

"No, Garak. Not this time. I don't want to talk. I don't want to be lied to right now. I realize some of what you've lied to me about was a long time ago, but some isn't. I just want a normal life with a normal person. No scary past, no deception, no wondering just what he's doing now or who he's with." He took a deep breath; his hands shook so he clasped them behind his back. "This isn't going to work any more."

"You - you don't know what you're asking," Garak stammered. "You're saying you no longer -"

"I'm saying I'm leaving for a while. I need to think. I need you to stay away - no more of those strange visits in the middle of the night. I need to find out what's real about you."

"You're not going to like what you find, doctor." Garak's eyes were pleading but his voice was cold. "I did many things of which I'm ashamed, for which I repent. I didn't have the choices you had - I never had the love or support even of misguided parents. I wasn't given the opportunities you were given to escape. I did what I was told but I never deliberately hurt, I never took pleasure in -"

"I don't think I want to hear it now, Garak." 

Bashir's words were like a slap in the Cardassian's face, and he reacted in the same way. "Then I bid you good-bye, doctor." He bowed, and Bashir quickly left the shop. 

Garak's hands, too, were badly shaking. He couldn't comprehend where the attack had come from, and it was very definitely an attack - somehow Bashir was being fed accusations from his past, things he hadn't heard mentioned in many years, things he thought gone forever. Starfleet had no doubt screened him with all due diligence and found him worthy of assisting them; even Sisko, much more recently, had done so. Bashir obviously did not. And the worst part of it was, Bashir was not totally incorrect, especially now. Garak closed his eyes. Especially now. Bashir had been told about the past; it was only a matter of time before he'd be told about the present too, about the war. 

Upset and in pain, Garak closed the shop early and practically ran to his quarters. There was a message waiting for him from Jil Orra. "I'm scared. Can you stop by?" Of course he could. The defenseless, lonely child. Of course he could.

*****

I quickly jogged back to the infirmary, feeling as if I had just been punched in the stomach. With my own fist. What the hell was I trying to do, laying all my problems with your past out for you like that, without warning, while you sewed a goddamn shirt or whatever it was you were doing. You had looked so stricken, so sick - and I was the healer who was opening up those wounds for you, right there in your shop. Good work, Doctor Bashir.

I don't think it ever would have happened, though, if the war hadn't beaten us all down the way it had. I think I could have gone on for many more years, a lifetime even, ignoring your past, hoping that you had exorcised any demons Tain had unleashed on you, and accepting you as the Federation ally you had become, the man that even Kira now grudgingly respected. KIRA! If she could do it... Well, but - Kira had been much more accepting of the kind of person who had existed in your past. "I've done things I'm not proud of," she had told me, and others, and we left it at that. But Kira never shared my bed. Kira never asked me for comfort and forgiveness - Kira had been driven to do what she did; how did you choose your path in life? No doubt willingly, and proudly, and even eagerly, I thought at that moment - Garak, how wrong I was. I ask you again to forgive me, because I'm still having a lot of trouble forgiving myself. When you needed me the most, I ran the furthest.

I did, however, resolve then to find you within the next few days and, if not apologize, at least explain that I needed some time alone but that I should not have attacked you like that. Maybe I even would have pressed you to help me find the source of the messages, or explain more of the circumstances to me, or just listen to you for a change. Maybe I also would have asked you more calmly about the girl and the reason she was here. There were many, many reasons for a young Cardassian woman to be on the station right then, no doubt, but I hadn't asked you a single one. But then, at my comm system in the infirmary, was yet another message, murkier and in some ways more disturbing than any I had been sent so far, and my understanding dissolved. I couldn't even recognize the features on the Cardassian face half turned away from me in the image - all I saw was the blood. I quickly deleted it, never knowing that the image this time was of you; the label gave no hint, after all, but only said "Cardassian victim." Yes, truly - in many ways. I'm so sorry, my love.


	6. Chapter 6

"What seems to be the problem, my dear?" Garak asked as he let himself into Jil Orra's room. "You said you were - scared?"

She was sitting at the table, her face brightening in relief when she saw him. "Yes - I was at the gym and some Bajorans came in. Some Bajoran men. I didn't like how they were staring at me - I couldn't hear what they were saying but it was mean, I'm sure. I didn't like the way there were three of them either. So I left right away and came back here. I was scared they were going to follow me."

Garak sat down next to her. "It sounds to me as if they were simply being very rude but not threatening you. I'm sure it was upsetting, though." She nodded vigorously. "Very upsetting. A girl all alone here - you should have contacted me right away at the shop." 

"I was about to, but I didn't know how late you were going to stay there. So I tried your room first. You weren't there when I left the message, I take it?"

"No, but I must have returned very soon after. So it all worked out." He smiled reassuringly at her. "In the future, though, be sure you check both places. If you still can't find me, contact the head of security on this station if you ever feel uneasy."

"Odo? The shapeshifter?"

"I've found he can be very understanding, and very trustworthy. He'll certainly come to your aid - you don't have to fear him, or be at all embarrassed to call him. And remember," he said, leaning forward, "this station may appear safe for you but it's not a hotel - it's not a vacation resort. This is a military installation and we're at war. You have no idea who passes through here, or what sort of individuals are wandering the halls when you're walking alone." She seemed to shiver. "Then again, I don't want to unduly alarm you either. Odo and Starfleet keep a very firm hand on this place. Still, I can't deny I'm going to be relieved when you're finally on your way back home."

She shivered again. "And that's another thing that scares me. It all sounded so easy when I arranged it, but now I find I'm - well, dreading it."

"Dreading going home?"

"No, dreading the means I need to use to get there. As you can guess, I can't just take a transport back to Cardassia."

Garak nodded. "I confess I never actually considered that in detail. But then how did you come here in the first place?"

"Through the use of neutral third parties, you might say. I caught a Koberian freighter to Andor, from which I took a transport to Bajor and then here. To get back, I'm kind of doing that in reverse, except I'm not stopping at Bajor, just straight to Andor. And it seemed like such an adventure before, but now... I don't want to be all alone with a crew of Andorian men, I really don't. I can handle Koberians - they're actually kind of funny - but Andorians are weird and creepy and..."

Garak placed his hand on her arm. "I really wish you would just have contacted me via subspace if you wanted to meet me." She smiled at that. "The trouble you went through... Remarkable. You are a very brave young lady. I can only imagine what your guardians would think if they knew. They didn't, I'm assuming." She gave him a guilty look. 

He thought for a while. "This is what I'll do. I'll accompany you on the Andorian ship - I haven't been to Andor in many, many years. It could be fun." In truth, he didn't relish the journey at all - it would be cold and uncomfortable, and he barely spoke the Andorians' language, which put him into a position of unaccustomed vulnerability. But he could not let her travel alone when she expressed such uneasiness to him. "I'll see you safely onto the Koberian ship and then return here."

"I could NEVER let you do that, Garak!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Never! Just the inconvenience alone -"

"Which won't be so very great."

"And the danger of traveling now -"

"You're going to be travelling too. I think I can take the risk, if you can." He smiled and rose to his feet. "And now - have you had dinner?" She shook her head. "Then I propose a visit to our usual table in the replimat. Andorian food tonight, in honor of our future hosts!"

She shook her head again. "I was hoping - if you were willing, of course - that we could just - stay here again. It was so nice to just talk without everyone staring at us. Including the doctor."

"Oh." So that was the issue - that, and other things. Garak again felt himself beginning a descent, one he was barely resisting. Well. So be it. He had experienced rejection today - perhaps the universe was now offering him just a small measure of acceptance to make up for it. To try to patch up the gaping hole in his heart and his psyche and slow the bleeding. He had no idea what he would have done, back in his room after the conversation with Bashir, if Jil Orra's needs hadn't suddenly taken precedence. So why not dinner with her - why not. He was hurting no one.

He hoped. To spare her the expense of utilizing the replicator in her room for dinner for two, he decided, quieting the voice in his head, that they'd simply have dinner in his quarters, after which he'd walk her back home. It would be nice for the girl to have a little variety too - viewing only her room, the gym, the replimat, and one or two other places must surely be getting tiresome at this point. 

She looked around his room later in fascination but stood awkwardly in the center of it, not even sitting down until he asked her to. She was equally as awkward for a while at dinner, barely even speaking at first. Garak had begun to have second thoughts - perhaps this was a little too much for her, bringing her here - perhaps he was sending frightening signals after all. The girl was intelligent and even somewhat bold in her words and manner but was certainly not bold sexually. In fact, it was her very demureness that was attracting him; he didn't really want to be seduced by a teenager, he wanted to play the fatherly protector and - just possibly, at times - the caring mentor and lover. Both were roles that he was unable to fully play with Bashir, for all the human's interest in assuming different personas in bed. Just what would he think of this particular one?

But Garak had no wish to lead Jil Orra to his bed then - she had been rattled today and was starting to learn that her adventurous little expedition wasn't all under her control. He wasn't going to add to that. On the other hand, after dinner, when they again sat side by side watching a holovid, he could tell by the way she snuggled so closely against him that she hadn't forgotten the previous evening. Neither had he, but tonight would be a night just for goodnight kisses, nothing more. 

Or so he thought. After an hour or so, Jil slid down until her head was almost pillowed in his lap. Garak shifted uncomfortably. Cardassian male genitalia remained mostly sheathed until fully aroused, so it wasn't as if the girl could actually feel much of anything, in her position, but there was always the danger that something would start, in that intimate setting and with yesterday's encounter still fresh in his mind. He shifted again and Jil looked up into his eyes.

"Is anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just a little - I believe, Miss Jil, that you should sit up again - my back is hurting me."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She didn't move, however. "And I thought we were finally past the Miss and Mister."

"Not always." He shifted enough to partially dislodge her. "It's time to get you home, I think. I have a lot to do in the morning, especially if I'm going to be leaving the station for a while."

"Garak?" She looked at him, then away. "Garak - I -"

Oh no. Here it was. The hint for more. But more of what? Garak braced himself.

"I - I mean, you were so nice to me yesterday, and, well... I wanted to know if..." Garak waited, dreading what would come next but fascinated too - this child actually wanted him again! "I wanted to know if you'd let me try -"

He recoiled, taking the hint. "NO! No, absolutely not! Absolutely not - we will not even discuss it. I will not allow you to do that. No! Never." His body was giving a completely different answer, one that almost shocked him. Was he really that desperate?

"So you're basically telling me the answer is no?" Jil grinned. "Are you sure? I just - wanted to try it. It just seems - with you - that -"

"NO!" Garak thundered again. "Can you imagine what your father would have said if I let you do something like that, with us barely knowing each other - and with you hardly even a woman yet!"

"Well, that's hurtful," Jil pouted. 

"You know what I mean." 

"You did it for me."

"That's different - that was a - a momentary impulse. I'm surprised at myself and I regret it. I should know better."

"Oh - well, that's hurtful too," she replied, moving completely away from him. "I'm sorry."

"I just meant - you know nothing about men and I don't want to be the one to teach you. You'll find a young Cardassian man someday who'll want you for a wife - how would it seem if you already knew - what you're implying."

"It's going to be awfully difficult to find a Cardassian man who'll be like you," she smiled slyly. Garak couldn't deny the truth of that. 

"Nevertheless. I think it's time to take you back to your room." He stood, but Jil reached for his arm.

"I don't want to go back. Can't I just stay here tonight, and sleep on the sofa?"

"You could, but you won't," he replied, disengaging himself from her grasp. "You're becoming quite timid for a girl who marched into my shop just two weeks ago and told me I was sexist!"

Jil watched him for a moment, her eyes beginning to tear up. "That was because it was you. You don't scare me. This place is starting to."

Garak considered that. He knew he could just as easily have escorted her back to her room and slept there, himself, on HER sofa - that would be the more gallant and less questionable choice. But he was tired, and becoming more so by the moment - what would really be the harm in letting the girl sleep there after all? Absolutely no one seemed to be keeping track of her whereabouts, and no one would miss her that night. He could keep better watch over her for safety too... 

Yawning, he rose and gathered a blanket from the closet and a pillow from his own bed for her, settling her down on the sofa and disappearing into his own sleeping alcove while she went off to make use of the bathroom. She was wearing the comfortable, soft clothing she always wore to the gym, so he expected that she would not be averse to wearing that same clothing to bed that night. Drifting off to sleep, he reflected that it would be enjoyable to begin designing those types of garments more often - it was remarkable what one could do with form-fitting, colorful pieces that lent themselves to so many uses... 

*****

It was like a bad romance novel, Garak, a very bad one, or the worst kind of cliche in a holovid filled with cliches. And yet I never expected that I'd be walking right into it. You're probably confused right now - I don't think I ever told you about what happened that night, so I will. Don't be embarrassed - I know now that it wasn't - well, let me just describe it so you'll have even more insight into why I behaved the way I did, back then. 

I was feeling more and more guilty over our encounter in your shop, the dramatic way I ambushed you and the stricken look on your face when I told you I was leaving. I resolved, later that evening, to send you a message saying that I'd meet you at breakfast to talk. I typed one out and very nearly did send it - until a better idea occurred to me. I'd surprise you in your quarters - I'd do what I was always allowing you to do to me, and I'd simply show up and quietly let myself inside and into your bed. I wouldn't even say a word, just silently crawl into bed with you - that in itself would convey the message.

If you were sleeping, so much the better. You'd wake to find me there. That could be dangerous, however, especially at that time when possible enemies lurked around every corner, but I knew you and knew that you'd never actually be able to remain asleep when I'd enter the room - you were much too jumpy and on edge for that then. So I'd be safe. I of course knew your entrance code, after all those years, and crept down the corridor at about 0300, spotting no one the entire way there. Then I very quietly keyed in the combination and slipped inside.

Which is where I saw you, in bed, in the darkened room, the young Cardassian girl in bed next to you, her hair spread out on the pillow, her face pressed against your neck, her shoulders bare above the blanket. Neither of you stirred, so I even more quietly crept back to the door and went home. I didn't even open the latest message I found waiting for me - it had to do with the Romulans this time, I gathered from the subject line, but I already had a very good suspicion of what it would say, so there was really no point. You had never changed; I had taught you nothing. At least, that was my thought as I held my head in my hands. I couldn't imagine ever getting you back, or what is so much worse to admit to you now, ever wanting you back. Forgive me. Again.


	7. Chapter 7

Garak emerged into wakefulness as if through a thick haze; he was aware of his body only very slowly, and struggled to attain full consciousness. A very odd sensation, being so disoriented upon awakening, and much odder was the sensation of tortuously gentle and uncertain fingers at his waist. Jil Orra. She was attempting to open his trousers but the multiple clasps stymied her - he had gone to bed wearing a pair that were actually more suited for casual activity than for sleep, which turned out to be a fortuitous choice.

He blinked and slowly sat up. Jil ceased her explorations but remained lying at his side, avoiding his eyes. He also saw that - at least above her lower back - she was unclothed. All very interesting, but as he was fond of saying, not all that surprising, actually. She was young, persistent, and, it now appeared, quite infatuated, and he had already given her the impression that sexual activity was always only one step away from whatever they were doing at the moment. So while this was extremely forward of her, it wasn't as if he hadn't already opened the door - to coin a very bad phrase - to that sort of intimacy. Still, he could only imagine what anyone on the station, and most especially Julian Bashir, would say if they could see the two of them now.

"Miss Jil," he finally addressed her, "I believe you've taken certain - liberties - that I did not grant you last night."

She said nothing.

"You must admit that, were the situation reversed, you'd have quite ample grounds to ask Constable Odo to charge me with a crime." She gaped at him, alarmed, at that, and he smiled slightly to reassure her. "All I meant is that it's really not, shall we say, polite of you to take that which I haven't expressly given." He knew that by continuing to share the bed with her, he was tacitly approving of whatever it was she had done or was about to do, but he was still too lethargic - and too contented - to think of leaving it quite yet. 

But soon. Soon, after he finished his lesson to her on the impropriety of disregarding a direct request from one's elders... "And was it really necessary to remove your - shirt?" he asked, glancing down and noting with relief that there was still the waistband of her trousers peeking above the top of the sheet. "The station conducts periodic drills even at night - you'll never know when you may need to hurry into the corridor and to one of the more sheltered areas."

"No one ever told me THAT!" she winced, modestly trying to cover her chest with the sheet. "I was just having a little fun with you. I wanted to get a reaction from you, when you'd wake up and find me - here, like this." 

"Believe me, it takes a great deal more than that to get a reaction from me." Or was that a foolish thing to say then? Jil's expression never changed, however. "Except for this one: you will get up now and put the rest of your clothing back on, and we'll have breakfast in the replimat. Then you will go about your day, and I'll go about mine."

"Can we have lunch too?"

"No, not today." At her crestfallen look, he quickly added, "Dinner. We'll have dinner. I'll contact you as to the time and place. But now -" He made a motion with his hand as if to shoo her out of the bed, then turned dramatically so he faced the opposite wall. He heard her begin the motions of dressing; when she disappeared into the bathroom, he rose and quickly changed into fresh clothing for work. Then he walked with her to the replimat, neither of them saying anything at first, grateful for the presence of other people in the corridors and at the other tables so that conversation was mostly unnecessary. 

*****

I couldn't believe it when I looked up and saw you standing in front of me, Garak. Absolutely could not believe it - I had thought I had driven you away for weeks, at the very least, even though you're technically the one who had asked me to leave. But there you stood near my desk in the infirmary, a pensive look on your face, a hopeful light in your eyes. And I chose to give you my most curt, my most "What are you doing here now?" expression. I could actually see the muscles in your face fall - it was almost as if I were watching you in slow motion. But you took a deep breath and tried again.

"Doctor. I'm sorry to be disturbing you. But I've been giving a great deal of thought to what you said to me yesterday, and I was hoping you'd consent to have lunch with me so we could discuss these issues further."

I sighed. "I have no intention of talking about this kind of thing in public, Garak."

"All right, then - in my quarters." You waited. I shook my head.

"No, I don't think so. I really don't feel comfortable talking there any more." 

You smiled, trying ineffectively to ease the mood. "Your quarters, then?" I refused to even give that an acknowledgement. 

"Garak, listen to me. I told you I needed time. And I do. I've been thinking a great deal about this, too, and I just don't see how I can reconcile your words and actions toward me with - well, with some of your past behavior."

"Julian -"

I held up my hand, imperiously, to stop you. "I've always known you had a side you refused to show me. I've also tried to imagine what that side was like, just what you did to cause your life to become what it has become. I wanted to believe the best about you - many of us did. But I've heard too many stories, Garak, and they're finally starting to sink in."

"Stories? What kinds of stories?" The look in your eyes - oh Garak, if only I could go back in time and hold you in my arms... There was a flash of such misery, such despair, that I don't think I had ever seen in you before, not even when you were on the floor convulsing over the effects of the wire. And all I did was stare, and challenge, and self-righteously puff myself up while you squirmed in front of me.

"Garak - I'm a doctor - I heal people. I take people who are sick or in pain or have run out of hope and I try to make things better. I'm starting to realize that the primary motivation of your life has been to hurt. I don't understand -" I faltered, then started again. "I don't understand how you can care so little about people, even now." Your eyes widened with sudden, horrifying shock and denial, but I know you remember what I said next. I know you remember, because how can you forget? I can't. "Now, if you don't mind - I don't think have a place in my life for you right now. I need some time apart."

"You need -" You stopped and gaped at me. "But -"

"Just go - please, Garak. Just go." You regarded me for another few seconds, and then you turned and left. "Go back to her, whoever she is," I muttered for good measure after the door had hissed closed. Then I again buried my face in my hands - God, Garak, that was so hard. Please believe me. That was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. 

*****

"That was delicious, Garak!" Jil Orra beamed, wiping her mouth with her napkin. "Simply delicious! Where did you find Larish pie that good in a place like this?"

"Oh, Quark always has a few tricks up his sleeve," Garak answered distractedly. Jil watched him, sensing his mood, but didn't draw closer. "Oh, and you do know, my dear, that Larish pie is Bajoran?"

She nodded. "But we have it so much on Cardassia that I usually forget." She paused. "Ah - Garak..."

"Yes?"

"Well... You seem very preoccupied tonight. I was wondering if, maybe, I should go. I don't want to intrude."

"Oh no, no - please stay. I'm just thinking." 

"About what?"

"Oh, it's too difficult to explain." She didn't press him further, but began helping him clear the dishes from the table. At one point, the two bumped into each other and they both laughed, then resumed their work, Jil continually watching him from the corner of her eye. When they had finished, she sat down at one end of the sofa, Garak joining her at the opposite end and brightly saying, "Well! What shall we watch tonight?"

"How about if we don't watch anything - how about if we just talk."

"I'm really too tired to talk," he sighed. "I won't be very good company for you, then, I'm afraid."

"Garak? What's wrong? Is it something between you and -"

He didn't answer. She slid a little closer to him, and he finally turned to face her. "Jil Orra, how would you characterize your childhood?"

"'Characterize my childhood'? What does that mean?"

"I mean, was it happy? By and large? Did you have choices as to what you wanted to do, where you wanted to go?"

"Well, sort of - I mean about the choices. My father did his best to make me feel wanted, if that's what you mean. He let me decide about school too, but I usually wanted to stay as close as possible to him. But, yes, I was happy."

"So you loved him."

"Yes - of course. Of course I loved him. You loved your father too, I'm sure." Garak nodded. "He must have given you a lot of opportunities, because of his position and all. You must have had Cardassia at your feet, if you wanted it!" 

He smiled but his eyes were solemn. 

"Do you miss him?"

"Hmm?" Garak asked, lost in thought, then roused himself. "My father. Yes, of course I miss him."

"I miss mine like crazy. I can't believe he's gone." 

Garak pondered that. "In many ways, I have to say that I never feel as if my father is gone. Maybe you'll feel that way too, as time goes on." She nodded and shifted all the way over to him, tentatively sliding her arm around his waist. He didn't resist. 

"You sound very sad about him, Garak. I have a funny feeling..." She looked up into his face. "I have a funny feeling that you're not just sad about him being gone. Was he ever - mean to you?" Garak sighed but did not meet her eyes; he tried to put thoughts of Ezri Dax and her recent prying inquiries about his childhood out of his mind - Jil did not need to receive the same sarcastic retorts for which he had already apologized to Ezri. "Forgive me for asking that. It's just that you told me that he wasn't always... Well, never mind what you told me. You also said no one is perfect, but we have to do the best we can with what we're given." She smiled up at him and he grinned.

"Spoken like a true Cardassian survivor."

"Yes I am. Yes, we both are - both of us. I'm so glad I came here and found you, Mister Elim Garak. You've been so kind to me - you truly are a wonderful person. Father was right about you." Garak felt a wave of uneasiness pass through him - there was that declaration again, that declaration of respect from a man who had never seemed to bear him anything but ill will as long as he had known him. But for whatever reason, Madred had managed to deceive his daughter and that seemed to be good enough for her. 

Garak closed his eyes and felt Jil rest her head on his shoulder. "I don't think anyone tells you often enough just how wonderful you are. How important you are." Garak almost laughed at the blatant flattery, but it was strangely hypnotic and soothing all the same. Then she gently, oh so gently, bit at a neck ridge and Garak didn't stop her. "You should be loved all the time. You deserve it. That doctor friend of yours - he doesn't -"

Garak carefully disengaged himself from her embrace. "Let's not talk about Doctor Bashir, if you don't mind."

"I'm sorry," she replied, suitably chastened. "I just meant - I'm sorry." She cast her eyes down and Garak, relenting, drew her once more to his side. Then he kissed her - and kissed her again. She very, very slightly opened her lips at his insistent pressure and the taste of her was intoxicating. What a treasure to have been sent to him, to comfort him at a time like that. He held her even closer and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck; he knew he was falling, was lost, but it was too late. She was not his love - there was only one person in all the universe who could ever be that, with him - but she made him feel loved, and at that moment, that was good enough for him too.


	8. Chapter 8

Garak spent the next three days almost entirely in Jil's company. But it was not the intense, extravagant sexual indulgence that his first long weekend alone with Bashir had become, years ago. That weekend of joyful mutual discovery had been the brightest spot in Garak's life - he and Bashir had talked incessantly even while they made love, and when they weren't making love, they were lying close together sleeping in a twisted mass of blankets and sheets, or feeding each other at the table, or slowly and lazily stroking each others' bodies in the warm bath. 

Thank God for Bashir's conference on Risa, of all stereotypical places, Garak had mused, and thank the conference organizers for seeing fit to provide Bashir, the keynote speaker, with a detached bungalow overlooking the lake from its own private patio. "Come with me!" Bashir had urged him, near the very beginning of their relationship. "We'll get there early. You'll enjoy the fancy room and the warmth, and I could use someone there to help me try out some ideas." Garak trusted he had fulfilled his part. Ideas, indeed.

No, this time with Jil was very, very different. In fact, it was very far from what Garak would normally have preferred - he most emphatically did not see himself in the role of deflowerer of virgins, or sophisticated guide to sexual discovery - he had a strong suspicion that Dukat did, or had, and that was another mark against the Gul as far as he was concerned. Garak simply wanted to relax in a lover's arms and find comfort there, sexual and otherwise - his was a passionate soul too but he was at his best when matched with equal passion. 

Jil, though, while very obviously thrilled to be with him, was also still very nervous with him physically, so most of their time in bed was spent with Garak trying to relax her and ease her transition into intimacy with him. The first time, he had lifted her into his arms and deposited her on the bed, and he could almost hear her heart pounding as he felt the vibrations through his tunic. Undressing her had been simple mechanically, as the stretchy material of her clothing was very easy to roll up or down and remove, but mentally, she clung to him as if he were preparing her for painful surgery. He himself did not fully undress; it wasn't so much the inconvenience but the fact that he wasn't sure he wanted to present Jil Orra with the reality of a naked, fully aroused, adult male Cardassian in her room - far better to just allow her to feel but not see him.

So he did. In fact, he decided, against all Cardassian custom and possibly Jil's own half-formed expectations, to take her in more of the "human" style, face to face, supporting himself over her on his arms and slowly, very slowly, achingly slowly, easing in while she clung tightly and painfully to his neck. Her gasps of pain were smothered inside his mouth as he kissed her, and she returned the kisses as well as she was able to; they did serve to distract her somewhat, but she never said a word. And neither did Garak - he found, in contrast to his time with Bashir, that he really didn't know what to say. He couldn't profess his undying love, he couldn't tell her he had always wanted her since the moment they met, he couldn't promise to be there forever and follow her wherever she was required to go - no, those things had all been for Bashir; for Julian, and only Julian. 

But finally, after he had stopped resisting his body's great need and had thrust fully into her with passion and intensity, he allowed himself to rest on top of her, still inside her, and call her his darling and his sweet, beautiful girl. She smiled with happiness, and relief too, as he kissed her tear-streaked face; he knew the scream he had been dimly aware of was not from passion, so it was a relief to him too that her pain wasn't as great as her pleasure at having him in her bed.

In truth, he had dreaded the inevitable causing of pain, no matter what the benevolent result. It had taken him many, many years to dissociate the act from fear and pain; in fact, it was only through Bashir's careful and compassionate tutelage that he had finally learned the difference. So he too needed reassurance, and Jil Orra was able to provide him with that, once her own fear had subsided. 

The next night, he knelt behind her on the bed as she rested on the pillows, and he was very pleased to hear her gasping in undoubted pleasure this time. He took care to move in just the right way, just far enough and fast enough, that he could stimulate her while increasing his own arousal; he was joyously shocked when he was able to bring them both to a peak at nearly the same time, and again he rested against her, both of them panting while his body gave one last throb inside her. He had been very much hoping he would have been able to do that for her, give her that sort of pleasure with a male, before she left. 

God only knew what her first, or only, Cardassian lover of her own age would think, but Jil was a clever girl and would no doubt learn the best way to mask her experience; in the meantime he was able to render this encounter one she wouldn't forget. He was, indeed, rather pleased with himself after a fashion, and had the most unlikely and almost bizarre thought that this achievement would have been fun to tell Bashir about as they amused themselves some lazy weekend morning.

That thought gave him a start and he clasped Jil more tightly against his body. She squirmed but then settled into his arms and he kissed her neck, her comforting ridged Cardassian neck. Two more days - no, not even quite two days, and he'd be accompanying her on the Andorian ship and then, two or three days later depending on speed, would be escorting her to a Koberian freighter. And then leaving her to her journey alone to - home. Where he'd most likely never see her again. But, indeed, she was a clever girl - they'd stay in touch, he'd follow her progress, he'd find some way to mentor her and would offer her his best wishes if and when she eventually married, and had children.

Children. His mind, his body, froze. Children. He had had no lover except Bashir for so long, and had been so preoccupied and agitated for so many of the past days, that he had never even considered the fact that Jil Orra, being young and female, was also, of course, fertile. And she had certainly never mentioned it either. Why not? Did she also forget?

***** 

"No, Captain, he didn't tell me he was leaving. I didn't know anything about it." I sat uncomfortably in Sisko's office, Odo on one side of me and Kira on the other, fidgeting in my chair as his eyes burned holes into me. "I really had no idea."

"Doctor," he said, "he surely must have given you some hint. The two of you have been friends for I don't know how long."

"Yes... yes, we were. But we really haven't been in contact much lately. He's been so busy with Starfleet Intelligence, and then of course after we got back from the Gamma Quadrant the war started to take up all of our..." Sisko watched me carefully, barely blinking, which thoroughly unnerved me. Did he think I was covering for you for some reason? 

"This is a very serious matter. It appears that he left without informing anyone at all, then, and certainly not Starfleet. Needless to say, this is not the best impression for Mr. Garak to offer Starfleet at this critical time. It appears also," he went on, continuing to watch me, "that he had been in close contact here with the daughter of a Cardassian dissenter and possible terrorist, a Gul named Madred. Madred was presumed killed in a shuttle accident a year ago but it's more likely that he's hiding somewhere. Have you ever heard of him?"

Of course I had heard of him. Captain Jean-Luc Picard's torturer, the only Cardassian to have achieved such notoriety in Starfleet even after more was learned of his rival, the head of the Obsidian Order, Enabran Tain. Gul Dukat, at least in the past, used to seem like a mildly adversarial but generally reasonable opponent compared to those two. "How is that possible, that she could even have been on the station, sir?" I asked him.

"She was traveling under an assumed identity and with false travel documents - Odo was finally able to confirm her real name and origin but unfortunately too late to prevent her leaving before we could talk with her - and, it appears, taking Garak with her." I was stunned, absolutely stunned. 

"But surely he can't just walk off the station - surely someone would have intercepted him - them -"

"That's exactly what he did," Odo growled at me. "Slipped onto an Andorian ship, we believe, with the girl. It left without full departure authorization and is not responding to our communications yet."

"And, at this time, we simply don't have the means to go after it," Sisko finished for him. "It's possible - not likely, but possible - that it left early due to a simple misunderstanding about procedure. It's also possible that Garak was not aware he was flouting regulations." I highly doubted that; so too, it appeared, did Sisko. "But either way, It's gone - and, with it, so is he. We don't know for how long, of course - it could simply be that he's escorting her somewhere and plans to return. Andorian ships still dock here quite frequently."

"Then why wouldn't he inform you he was leaving?"

"Exactly." Sisko sat back, and I silently cursed myself for implicating you in some sort of conspiracy. On the other hand, I had already convicted you in my own mind, so I suppose my words in any event wouldn't have been far behind.

"Doctor," Kira finally spoke to me, "did you meet this girl after she arrived on the station? Talked with her yourself, with or without Garak present? Did she ever visit the infirmary?" I shook my head. Doctor-patient confidentiality seemed to be one of the many things sacrificed in times like these. "Well, did you at least see them alone together?" she asked, more impatiently. I didn't answer. "This is important. Your friend Garak has been entrusted with Federation and Bajoran intelligence and, out of the blue, he's gone off and re-joined the Cardassians! And probably a terrorist cell, no less!" She was almost shouting now.

Sisko motioned for her to calm herself, but his voice was stern as he repeated her request to me. "What do you know about the two of them, doctor? How would you describe his dealings with her? We do have some surveillance views of them in the replimat, but that means very little - naturally Garak would associate with the only other Cardassian on DS9 once he became aware of her. This could all be completely innocent. Until we realized she was a possible threat, it seems that very little attention was paid to her and she kept to herself. But we need to know if there was something more going on."

I licked my dry lips and again didn't answer. The three of them waited, watching me, not speaking. Garak, why would it never have occurred to any of us, with one exception, that the "something more going on" was simply a lonely man being seduced by the charms of a young, attentive woman? A woman with motivations that he may not have known anything about? Why were we so eager to assume the worst about you? Was it because we assumed you knew everything we knew and more, that you could never be fooled or misled - or was it even more true that we always assumed your loyalty was never really going to lie with us no matter what you did for us and professed to us? Well, there WAS one who held out hope - but that one was not me.

"I believe... that yes, he had an intimate relationship with her, sir," I finally admitted, leaning against Sisko's desk and addressing myself only to him. "I saw them kissing - I saw other signs of it - and I saw them in bed together. I have the... the code to Garak's room. He didn't know I saw them." I stared down at the reflections on the desk and then hurled the final thunderbolt. "It's my belief that he went with her willingly and that he intends to stay with her. I think it's entirely possible that she and her father, if he's alive, have recruited him. This may be a way for him to regain his status." I closed my eyes for a moment. 

"Well..." Sisko hesitated, giving me an odd look after I had opened them again, "we can't really assume that yet. All we know is that he's left the station, most likely with the girl, but that doesn't mean he's gone over to their side." Kira snorted with disbelief and even Odo appeared to roll his eyes. For an instant. "Based on what you've just told us, it may simply be a case of misplaced trust and affection. Perhaps he simply wanted to remain with her."

"Without telling anyone at all that he was leaving? Not even inventing an excuse?" Strange, how very quickly our roles had reversed - I suppose I should have picked up the baseball from his desk too. 

Sisko inclined his head. "We don't really know. I thank you for your insight into this situation, doctor, but I believe all we can do now is wait and hope he returns soon with some kind of explanation. In the meantime, I'm going to keep this information from Starfleet for now and I ask the three of you to do the same. Dismissed." 

We filed out of the office and I avoided Kira's and Odo's eyes. Why did I feel as if I had just betrayed you, Garak? They had asked me what I had seen, and I told them. They already had their suspicions; I didn't plant those suspicions in their minds. I simply had agreed with them. So why did Sisko suddenly cause me to me recall another incident that always played in my head, another voice from a human drama I had discussed with you more than once, another instance of betrayal... "Et tu, Brute?" But Caesar was a tyrant, wasn't he? Morally wrong, misguided? So then that meant he must have deserved... Oh Garak, I'm sorry. No one deserves that from a friend. No one.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: For those of you reading this story who were wondering where in the world this was really going... this chapter should finally clear a few things up. But only a few!

Garak awoke to the perplexing sound of deep reverberations surrounding him, along with the odd sensation of movement and vibration. For an instant, as he wearily struggled up from thick mental fog to consciousness, he imagined there was something wrong with DS9's stabilizers - then he recalled he was on an Andorian ship and assumed there had been a malfunction of some kind. along with perhaps a temporary decrease of oxygen. He was suddenly aware he was half standing, half leaning against some type of support, a thick band around his abdomen to hold him in place. Strange - the Andorian ship had been equipped with regular, albeit uncomfortable, seats and certainly with no restraining straps. Was he now on a rescue craft of some sort? 

He finally opened his eyes to complete and total darkness - nothing, absolutely nothing illumined the area, but the enveloping sounds were almost deafening. He reached out to feel for other seats, other inhabitants - and his hands encountered a wall less than thirty centimeters in front of his face. He reached up and felt a ceiling even closer than that above his head. He was in a very small, completely dark chamber, with no possible way to find an exit and no hint of where he was, or why he was trapped there. He screamed, began to gasp for air, and felt himself grow more and more lightheaded until he fell back into oblivion.

 

Boarding the Andorian ship had been almost too easy - there were no identity checks, no tedious waits for the ship's personnel to examine his possessions and possibly to scan his body, no signing or verifying of documents of any kind. He and Jil Orra had been quickly and quietly escorted to a small seating area at the rear, behind the bridge; the ship was of an older design that Garak recognized, with most of the ship's functions taking place in one large central room, smaller rooms branching off to the sides and up or down several sets of steep ramps. All very close, very convivial - very menacing if one didn't wish to be constantly under the noses or the antennae of some Andorian or other. No wonder Jil had professed such hesitancy about traveling alone in that manner again. 

Still, she didn't seem at all hesitant now. It appeared she recognized the crew, or at least the key members of it, because she was calm and collected as she sat next to Garak, clutching her small travel bag and watching the departure preparations with interest. She finally leaned closer to him and whispered, "We did it! Here we are! How did you manage to arrange things to go with me, by the way? You never said."

"I didn't," he whispered back. "I'm taking a very big chance. I didn't think I'd be allowed to go, so I decided to just hurry on board and hope we leave soon."

"Oh we will," she reassured him. "The captain is a very impatient man." She giggled. "Way too impatient to wait for a shapeshifter to give him permission to go." The bridge shook with the thrumming of engines. "And we're off!" she smiled. Garak took her hand and she glanced over at him, surprised but pleased. "Garak... I hope you don't get into too much trouble because of this. You're really helping me out a great deal. I don't know what I'd do without you, in fact, I really don't." She grasped his hand tightly and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, dear child," he answered. "I'll be fine - I've had to talk myself out of situations a lot worse than this. And after all, once I'm back, what can they say? The damage will have been done. Sisko and Starfleet will just have to wait for me. Besides, we'll be at Andor in - what? - two days?"

"If that," she agreed. "This ship really flies. Goes as fast as a battle cruiser when it wants to. And I think it definitely wants to." The two could see that the ship had already entered warp space, based on the images in the viewscreens. Jil settled against Garak's comforting shoulder and closed her eyes; after a few minutes, he did the same. He couldn't help worrying, though, that he perhaps had gone a little too far in agreeing to share a room with the girl. She had arranged it - she spoke better Andorian than he did, for some unfathomable reason - and she told him that they were traveling as a newlywed couple. The age difference, or so she also told him, made very little difference to Andorians, who thought Cardassians sexually decadent anyway - what were a few extra years between two of them, plus or minus?

Besides, they'd possibly not even have two full "nights" in which to share the room so the point was probably moot. In any case, the walls were too thin and the degree of privacy far too limited to even think about any sort of activity together, decadent or otherwise. Just as well - Garak had been missing Bashir more and more and was already rehearsing various forms of confession to him, hoping for his understanding and, he also fervently hoped, his compassion. 

The problem wasn't that he was becoming bored with Jil Orra - he was not. He was not, simply because she had never interested him to a degree that boredom could undo. He liked her, he was concerned for her, and he enjoyed the role of fatherly protector and considerate lover that he had decided to play. The non-intimate aspects of that role could continue indefinitely; the intimacy, however, was already becoming more difficult to sustain without love and passion, and Jil would never win those from him. Did she suspect that? She never seemed to, and he was relieved that he hadn't hurt her, physically or emotionally. He decided to put any worries of her potential pregnancy aside - she was intelligent, knew about such things even though she was still young, and had no doubt ascertained that she was at a safe period in her cycle, or she would have warned him - he fervently hoped.

Against his normally cautious preference, he felt himself beginning to slide more and more deeply into sleep, as Jil snuggled against him. He heard the Andorian crew speaking to each other in their harsh language, heard whistles and beeps from the instruments on the bridge, tried to open his eyes to see just what it was they were remarking upon, but was unable to move a muscle. Strange, that he should be so tired when it was still morning on DS9 and he and Jil had enjoyed a restful and uneventful sleep the night before. Very odd - very very odd, and his subconscious began to puzzle out the problem even while slumber overtook him. Jil. Jil was always near when he felt quite this incomprehensibly tired... Jil. It was Jil.

*****

I couldn't sleep that night. I tried to. I tossed and turned, as the old saying goes, but could never quite find a comfortable position. My mind kept replaying the short conversation in Sisko's office, kept trying to decide whether I had presented my reservations about you as simple statements of fact and well-thought-out, impartial theories, or as slightly vindictive speculations against a man who had been rather distant to me of late. Either way, I'm not sure how well I had come across at that meeting - if I had suspected anything, why didn't I come forward sooner? And if I hadn't suspected you, then why was I so eager to implicate you now?

None of it made any sense to me either - why would you risk everything, your whole life on DS9 and your whole new "career" with Starfleet, to go after a girl you had never spoken of to me and who was easily young enough to be your daughter? According to Odo, she had only been on the station three weeks or so - was three weeks sufficiently long, because she was Cardassian, that you could fall head over heels in love and sacrifice everything for her? No, there had to be something more, some other reason for you to disappear like that - and that reason most likely had to do with your wish to build a future for yourself on Cardassia. Allying yourself with a band of Cardassian insurgents was never the path I would have expected you to choose, but at a time like this, any port in a storm, as another old saying goes...

I tried to recall just when it was that things had started to cool between us, but that thought was so depressing that I immediately raced far back in my thoughts to a different time, when things were fresh and new and exciting and I thought I couldn't possibly be that much in love. The morning after our first night together, a night in which we had managed to explore just about every activity I had been hoping we would explore, I awoke with my head on your chest, my fingers laced loosely through your fingers. I didn't move at all for several minutes, just listened to you breathe and felt the rise and fall of your chest. The truth was, Garak, I was suddenly almost too shy to meet your eyes! It occurred to me then that you had finally woken too and were staying just as still as I was. What delicious awkwardness - what a fabulous way to wake up. I finally tilted my head so I could see your face - do you remember? And I smiled and you smiled back - when you did, I couldn't even face you, I smiled even wider and had to close my eyes in shyness or embarrassment. 

Then you said, as if blithely continuing our interrupted conversation of the evening before, "It appears, doctor, that you've gotten to know me somewhat better now. I think you'd agree." I had been telling you that going to bed would be inappropriate quite yet because I didn't know you well enough. Many hours later, several thorough explorations later as I kissed you, several other, even deeper, mutual explorations later - yes, I think we had finally gotten to know one another. I began to laugh, and you did too - I hugged you around the stomach and laughed against you, in such joy and relief. You laced your fingers through my hair then and coaxed my face up to meet yours - a few minutes later and we were continuing our quest to become even better acquainted. Or so I believed then - I had thought I was learning all there was to know about you. I suppose I was wrong. I suppose.

*****

Garak next awoke on the ground near the travel pod, gasping for air, curled up into a ball as a booted foot prodded him. "Come on, get up. You're fine. Stop being such a baby." It was Jil Orra, sounding much less girlish and much more brusque than Garak had ever heard her sound. "Get up, I said. Have some dignity. You don't want my father to see you all sprawled out on the ground like that, do you?" Garak blearily opened his eyes but didn't answer. Jil prodded him again, somewhat more forcefully. "Come on. That wasn't so bad. I had to do it too, you know. If the rest of them had had their way, you'd have been sent down in a cargo pod instead. Wouldn't have liked that too much, I'll bet." She crouched down finally and peered into his face. "You're fine. Get up."

"I can't," Garak whispered. "Just give me... give me a minute."

"No. No more minutes. My father is on his way - they went to fetch him."

"Your father..." Garak closed his eyes and rested his face on the rock floor of the cavern. "Your father is dead."

He heard footsteps crunching through the gravel and a joyful gasp of surprise from Jil. 

"I'm very much alive, thank you, Mr. Garak. And I'm delighted to see you again. Welcome." A hand reached down and pulled Garak up into a half-sitting position. "You remember me, of course." 

He most definitely remembered Gul Madred.


	10. Chapter 10

"Welcome to our humble abode," Madred continued as Jil Orra stood near him, one arm wrapped around his waist. "I hope you can forgive us for your somewhat uncomfortable method of arrival, but that's the only access we currently have to this mine. The vehicle entrances have long since been lost due to cave-ins, and transporters are lethal." 

"This is a -" Garak murmured, still slightly dazed.

"Yes, this is an abandoned ladarium mine. It was never a very productive source at the best of times. But now it's extremely productive in a different way." Through his haze, Garak could see four or five other Cardassians standing in the shadows nearby. "From here, we've been able to disrupt half of Cardassia's shipping lanes and interfere in a fair amount of government administration." Garak only blinked. "Yes, my friend, this may not look like it -" he wrinkled his nose at the rank, humid air, "or smell like it, but this is one of the nerve centers for our little group. Perhaps you've heard of us."

Garak only blinked again.

"We're affiliated with The True Way." Garak's eyes widened. "Ah, I see the name is familiar to you. It's going to be much more familiar to your former colleagues very shortly - maybe you'll even be helping us someday." Garak simply stared at him. "The formidable Elim Garak - and now he'll be working with us, sharing his expertise, teaching us all the techniques he learned when trained by the great Enabran Tain himself." Garak gave no response; Madred reached down and forcibly hauled him to his feet. "Jil Orra has told me so much about your current work for Starfleet. How nice that you were able to polish your skills while under their employ. Still, I don't suppose they gave you much choice." He stopped and regarded Garak speculatively. "You did have one choice, though."

He suddenly reached back and brought his fist around until it connected hard with the side of Garak's head, knocking him back to the floor. Madred stood over him as Jil gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth. "Don't ever touch my daughter again. Do you understand me?" he said quietly through nearly clenched teeth. "Do not touch her. EVER again. I don't know all the perversions your father and the Order subjected you to, but my daughter is an innocent child. I don't think either you or your father ever understood that concept." He turned on his heel, calling over his shoulder, "I'll see you at dinner. I think you'll enjoy it here, once you learn more about us. And you must agree that the heat is pleasant." The cavern was indeed stifling and Garak felt beads of perspiration begin to trickle down the side of his bruised face. Jil knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder but he reached out and pushed it away. 

*****

"Doctor, I think we need to talk privately." Sisko stood at the door of the infirmary, startling me. "I think there's more you need to tell me about our friend Mr. Garak."

"N-no, sir," I stammered. "I've already told you all I know. I think he may possibly have defected, but that's just a suspicion and I really have no solid evidence for that thought. I don't want to go on the record with it."

"No, of course not," Sisko nodded, stepping further into the office. "But I don't want to give Garak over to the enemy without a struggle." He smiled faintly. "After all this time, and after all the work he's gone through to be approved by Starfleet so he could assist us, I just can't believe that he was still secretly nursing these types of motivations." 

"Maybe I should lock the door." I quickly did so; we were alone but I didn't want anyone to inadvertently intrude on our talk, or to hear what I was about to say. "I've recently begun to have more doubts about that."

Sisko sat and motioned for me to do the same - I had risen to my feet at his entrance. "That's exactly what I came here to talk about. Doctor... you and Garak have kept the precise details of your - friendship -" I winced, "very quiet all these years. In fact, no one who wasn't already aware of certain facts would ever assume you were anything more than friendly acquaintances and lunch companions." I nodded slowly. "To tell you the truth, I'm uncomfortable even mentioning this now, but I believe I'm correct that the two of you share, or shared, a reasonably close relationship, even a physical one." 

I nodded again but looked away. Sisko was a very intelligent man, but, Garak, how had he figured that out? He was almost never at the replimat, he never spent much time with us in either of our quarters, he never invited us together to his own quarters... Ah. There was indeed one other way.

"Odo and Starfleet interviewed Mr. Garak extensively when it became clear that he was willing and able to assist us in the current situation with the Dominion." There it was. You had told Starfleet, and Starfleet had told Sisko. No confidentiality at all in times of war, absolutely none. "Garak mentioned his personal relationship with you as one of the contributing factors in his decision to help the Federation, and in fact as one of the mitigating factors in considering his past as an operative of the Obsidian Order." 

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair; just what had you told all these strangers, Garak? At the same time, though, a part of me couldn't help but rejoice that you thought enough of our relationship to make it public in that way. Sly, secretive, mysterious, and yet openly confessing your affection for a Starfleet doctor two decades younger than yourself and a lifetime apart in experience - I marveled. Was it difficult or uncomfortable to do that? Or did you smile and transform the investigator, or even Odo, into the uncomfortable one? I'll wager you did, my love - I wish I could have been there to see that!

But to return to Sisko. I felt I owed him a little more, so that, again, it wouldn't look as if I was trying to wreak some terrible revenge on you after a mere lover's quarrel. Despite the fact that my own misgivings were still only half-formed, I took a deep breath and started again. "It's recently come to my attention that Garak has done some terrible things in his past, things that I'm not sure I can reconcile any longer with the persona he's assumed here on DS9."

Sisko also took a deep breath. "That's a strong statement to make, doctor. 'Persona he's assumed' - it sounds as if you don't trust our Mr. Garak at all any more."

'Our' Mr. Garak? I was amazed. "I'm - I'm not sure I do, sir."

"Again I need to ask you why. Do you have new evidence that he's been duplicitous in some way? That he's tried to re-establish old contacts, or involve himself in actions against the Federation? Remember, the political situation on Cardassia is greatly in flux right now and we can't be sure of anyone's true allegiances there."

"Well, no, but of course there's his friendship with that Cardassian girl..."

"Which could be problematic, yes, but we have no evidence of that yet. It sounds to me, doctor, that you're simply operating on a hunch - and a rather negative one at that."

"Sir!" I burst out. "Garak was a - a terrorist! A torturer! Possibly even a murderer!" I tried desperately to come up with more synonyms as Sisko gaped at me in surprise and I felt a cold hand squeeze my heart.

"You have evidence of all this? Has he told you?"

"No... only bits and pieces. But I was recently given files that show some of the things he had done, and... and I just don't believe a man can change that much. Or at all. I want to believe it, but..." 

"Where are these files?"

"I've deleted them."

"Can they be recovered?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I did it pretty thoroughly. I'm not even sure how they were sent to me."

"Well. I'll get the chief to look into it. In the meantime - always remember, doctor, that our Mr. Garak came from a culture that prizes a very strict and perhaps almost ferocious interpretation of duty to the state. Garak was raised in that culture and, while he's done his best to assimilate our own, there are always going to be vestiges of that world in him. That doesn't mean he is not doing his best to join ours."

"But -"

"Think of it. We have no idea what his childhood was like, his education, why he followed the path he followed. I would say, given all I've learned of what he had to work with, or against... I would say he's done a pretty fair job of overcoming much of that."

"Sir?" I blinked at him. "I told you - I want to believe that too. I want to believe that he's trying to redeem himself. But then something like this happens, and I wonder if he cares - about us - at all. Maybe he has too much to overcome." 

Sisko sat forward, resting his hands on his knees. "I'm going to tell you a little story I read once - just give it some reflection. See if you think it's at all relevant here. Two men a long, long time ago had debts they couldn't repay, so they went to the lender and he forgave them both. One owed fifty coins, the other owed five hundred. Which of them do you suppose was more grateful to that compassionate lender and felt more obligation to him?"

"Well, of course, the one who owed the five hundred."

"Think about that." Sisko glanced meaningfully at me and was gone.

*****

Dinner with Gul Madred was a combination of easy conviviality and menacing threat, just as his dealings with Madred had always been, as long as Garak had known him. Madred, Jil Orra, and five other Cardassians sat with Garak at a wooden trestle table under a low rock ceiling, in what appeared to be the former cafeteria for the miners. The lighting was harsh and consisted of bright panels mounted regularly along the ceiling of the caverns - that left some areas in overly bright light, others in nearly total darkness. Garak had been taken on a brief tour shortly after his "arrival," and told that the caverns extended several kilometers in each direction but that they progressively narrowed and became more treacherous the further one traveled from the central core.

And that core, along with presumably all the tunnels, was accessible only by a series of four narrow access tubes, down which travel pods were sent through a winch and pulley system; one of the tubes was even narrower than the other three and was used for cargo. Rock falls and cave-ins were a constant threat, although the central area was better reinforced than the rest of the caverns; the tubes, however, were always at risk. Garak did not need to be told that he was now trapped as surely as if he had been kept in chains; it was going to be impossible for him to willingly and consciously enter one of the pods and then send himself upward through 1000 meters of solid rock, and ladarium traces meant that transporter signals were extremely unreliable at the best of times. Ladarium was a mineral used in Cardassian warp drives and was, in addition, radioactive in large doses, but his host assured him that the traces left in the walls weren't enough to endanger them personally, only their transporters.

These traces also had the "fortunate" effect of scrambling sensor probes and making the band of new True Way insurgents almost impossible to detect - communications signals could get through but it was notoriously difficult for the Cardassian government to pinpoint just exactly from where the signals came. So Madred and his colleagues could conduct their campaign of undermining and sabotaging Cardassian and Federation activities undisturbed. Garak did not need to be told that it also made him impossible to locate. What a trap he had been led into - what a perfect, inescapable trap. Jil Orra was truly her father's daughter.

The three of them remained at dinner after the others had gone off to different areas of the mine. Jil sat next to her father, and Garak remained at the opposite end of the table, watching them both. The low ceiling was making him more and more uncomfortable, a fact which Madred did not fail to note.

"I'm afraid the accommodations are not going to be quite to your liking, Mr. Garak," Madred smiled. "But given enough time, you'll get used to it. After all, you really have no choice."

"No, I suppose not." Garak had always been a practical man when necessary, and his instincts told him not to push Madred too far; he was trapped with him now and antagonizing him would not serve to win him his freedom, and could in fact put him into an even worse situation. "Where are we?"

"No, you have no need to know that," Madred chuckled. "I'm not going to give you the answer to such an obvious question. You've lost your touch, Garak, you truly have. 'Where are we?' Very, very clever." Garak bowed slightly and smiled at the insult. "However, I WILL tell you that we're not far from either Cardassian or Federation space - but as far as you're concerned, we could be a thousand light years away." He sat and regarded Garak for a few seconds. "I'll say it again, you really are losing your touch. Seduced by such a young girl - Jil Orra tells me she admitted to you right from the first that she was my daughter, and you never even thought to suspect her motives for an instant."

Garak didn't answer.

"Never even remotely considered the possibility that she might have been lying about my death, and in fact about almost everything else she told you." Jil also said nothing, but only looked down to her hands twisting in her lap. "I've enjoyed her stories." His voice took on a higher pitch. "Oh, Garak, I'm frightened to travel alone! Oh Garak, I'm being followed! Oh Garak -" and his voice resumed its normal but menacing tone, "I'm afraid to stay here by myself tonight."

Garak glanced at Jil, who was still staring at her hands, but her lip had curled slightly into a sneer. "That's not fair," he calmly replied. "That's not fair. I was not about to leave a frightened child by herself when she asked me for help."

"Asked you for help," Madred mocked him, "not to take her into your bed."

"She -" Garak began, then stopped. Getting into a war of accusations with Madred was a war he could never win, and especially not here.

"Let me guess. She offered you the apple, and you took it!" Madred concluded triumphantly. "Next time, learn to say no." He abruptly rose to his feet. "It's getting late - we'll talk further tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm afraid our sleeping arrangements are not going to be quite to your liking either. You've grown quite soft in the Federation." He looked over fondly at his daughter and smiled. "Jil Orra could always give you another jab, if you need one." Garak shook his head.


	11. Chapter 11

Despite the fact that there was really no place for him to go to escape, Garak was shoved into a storage alcove for the night, with nothing except the damp stone floor to use as a bed. The alcove was carved out of the rock and was about a meter and a half high, perhaps two meters deep, a barred metal door locking him in. He thanked whatever God was watching out for him there that the door was, at least, not solid - he didn't want to imagine being imprisoned in yet another dark, enclosed space in which he could not even stand upright this time. For some reason, being forced to stay low exacerbated the symptoms of claustrophobia, no doubt because of the similarity to a burial. The door, though, let in plenty of light and air, although the light was dim in this corner of the caverns and the air was hot and stale.

He tried unsuccessfully to sleep; as always, his instinct for self-preservation took over and he knew that it was important to take every opportunity for food, water and sleep, no matter how humiliating the acceptance. That was why he had dined willingly with the Madreds and why he hadn't struggled - too much - when the other Cardassians had marched him later to the storage areas and pushed him into the cell. Best to conserve his strength until he had more opportunity to explore his new surroundings.

About an hour later, as he continued to stare uncomfortably at the close ceiling of his prison, he heard soft footsteps nearing him, and then saw Jil Orra leaning down to peer in at him. When she caught his eye, she looked around her, mimed a "shh" sound, and then very quietly unlocked the door. Garak didn't move. She carefully closed the door behind her so it would appear locked, then slid down to the floor next to him, wriggling her body until she was behind him. She then put her arms around his waist from behind and rested her head against his back, until the two lay together spoon-fashion. 

"Don't say anything," she whispered. "It's so hot in here but the ground is so damp - I'm freezing." She clasped his waist even tighter. "All I have is one little blanket - I'm sleeping on the ground too, you know." 

"So you miss the Federation's soft beds," Garak whispered back. "Shall I tell your father?"

"Please be quiet. Oh, and make sure you don't try to escape, all right? I know you can't really go anywhere, but it'll still make him furious and he'll blame me. On the other hand..." Garak could almost feel her grinning against his back, "I could always tell him you raped me before you got away." 

Garak did not reply to that, but simply closed his eyes in resignation.

*****

"Doctor... I may be forced to agree with you." Sisko motioned to the viewscreen set into his desk. "Much as I regret to do so in this case." I moved closer so I could better see the screen. "This was sent yesterday and has been confirmed - as far as anyone can make that determination - as authentic. The images do not seem to be altered in any way." 

There you sat at a table with Gul Madred, his daughter - I instantly recognized her - and some other Cardassians, all of you smiling and evidently enjoying a meal together. Nothing coercive in any part of those few seconds of recording, not even the hint of coercion. In fact, I would almost say that you and the girl - Jil Orra? - were looking at each other rather fondly, despite the presence of her father. I sighed.

And then I noticed something. The faintest indication, the faintest hint in the slightly distorted, slightly blurry image, but I both saw it and sensed it with what I can only describe now as a lover's sixth sense. A bruise. A definite bruise on your temple, similar to the one for which I had treated you a long, long time ago when you had returned with Odo from your ordeal together. I pointed it out to Sisko.

"Where? I don't see anything."

"There - on that side, near his eye. Replay the last two seconds."

"That? It's hard to tell exactly WHAT that is. It could just be dust from that room they're in - they appear to be in some sort of bunker or cave. Or maybe he hurt himself going in." 

"I suppose so." I sat back. "Obviously, I'm assuming we don't know where this came from."

"No." Sisko's reply was brief. "Not yet. Probably sent from the same place as those messages you received. In the future, doctor -" He didn't need to finish. I had already been reprimanded pretty thoroughly by O'Brien for the hours he had needed to spend tracing and retrieving the messages I had so thoroughly deleted. They were even now being studied intensely by Odo, who to my relief had already proclaimed one of them, due to his memory of the incident in question, a deliberate deception - although he was mum about some of the others. But their point of origin was still impossible to determine, except for the fact that they could not have been sent from DS9 itself; so much for my suspicions of Garak's new female friend. No doubt they had instead been sent by her father or his associates.

Which then led to the continuation of my first thought, from far in the back of my mind. I didn't pursue it yet, but Garak, I'm so relieved to tell you that the web they were spinning for you had already begun to unravel, at least with Sisko and, imperceptibly, also with me. After only a few days, it had begun to unravel. I may have my weak and vulnerable moments, even my ignorant moments, I may use my head too often and my heart too little at times, but at least in this case, in this one instance, when it came to us, to you and me - well, it didn't take long after all before I slowly and painstakingly began to drag myself back up onto solid ground. I can at least tell you that much. You had a bruise. You were not there with them willingly. I hoped. No, I knew.

*****

"I apologize for the poor quality of today's breakfast," Madred intoned, casting an amused glance at Garak who was working his way through a bowl of very hard and chewy grain. "We wouldn't want to break any of those perfect teeth of yours." 

Garak smiled - giving Madred a full view of those perfect teeth - and swallowed carefully. "Entirely acceptable. Reminds me of my childhood."

"Does it?" Madred was interested despite himself. "I would have thought a son of Tain would be treated to much more refined fare than a few handfuls of rulot seeds."

"Well, then, you would have been mistaken. A son of Tain was treated to anything Tain felt necessary - a handful of rulot seeds would have been a feast compared to some of the meals, or lack of them, to which I was treated."

"Oh come now," Madred scoffed. "You don't expect me to believe -" At that moment, Jil Orra entered the little dining area and sat down near her father, yawning. Madred beamed at her. "Sleep well, darling?"

"All right, I guess," she replied. "The ground is so damp and cold."

"I know - we'll get you a cushion. Aatami is bringing some supplies - I had requested more bedding."

Jil's eyes lit up. "Aatami? Aatami is coming today?"

"Yes. He would have been here to greet your arrival but the problem in Lakat delayed him."

"What problem in Lakat?"

Madred gave her a meaningful glance. She looked over at Garak, paused, and then began serving herself some breakfast. "Not yet. I get it."

Garak exhaled in irritation. "You know, all this secrecy makes no difference - if you've kidnapped me to help you, then you're going to have to tell me details sooner or later. If I'm not to know anything, then why the elaborate scheme? What can you gain by just holding me here in this prison?"

Madred laughed. "That, my dear Mr. Garak, is exactly the point. While you'e here in this prison, you're not helping the Federation, you're not helping Cardassia, and you're most decidedly not helping that dear doctor friend of yours. Any assistance you can render us later is merely icing on the cake, as your beloved humans would say." 

Garak frowned at him. "So to whom are you loyal, Madred? Who are you helping? If not Cardassia, then who? Yourself?"

"Certainly myself. Your father, despite all he may have told you, was loyal to only one also. Can you guess who or what that one was?"

Garak didn't need to guess. "I know this is also a human cliche, but I still feel it necessary to tell you that my absence is not going unnoticed - I'll be missed and the station is going to send people out to look for me."

"Oh come now." Madred scoffed again. "I've already told you you're buried one thousand meters under almost solid and radioactive rock. Tain himself couldn't have located you, were he still alive. But, for the sake of argument, let's assume that there was some method by which you could be found and retrieved. I doubt very highly that anyone in your former home would go through the trouble. Not with your staunchest ally turned against you."

"What do you mean?" He knew he shouldn't ask. He did so anyway - probably because he already knew the answer.

"We, my daughter and I, had spent a little time amusing ourselves by carefully playing on the doctor's doubts about you, both personal and professional. Just little hints here and there to keep him guessing about exactly what kind of man you are."

"You sent him the information about the Order." Garak's voice was flat.

"Yes I did! Clever of me, wasn't it?" Madred smiled brightly. "Only a few scraps - he didn't need more and that meant fewer to be traced. The funniest one," and here he made a great show of chuckling mirthlessly, "was an image of you shortly after one of Tain's training sessions - I don't think even your lover himself would have recognized that face." From the corner of his eye, Garak saw Jil give a little shudder, but so imperceptibly that Madred could easily have missed it or misinterpreted it. "I told him it was a victim of yours. I'm sure he believed that."

"And you expected that he would not even study the image, or have it analyzed?"

"I think he very quickly and squeamishly got rid of it. During that time, my daughter was watching him closely and sensed no sympathy for you at all. A pity, really. Luring him here could have been fun, in a way."

"Here? Where?"

"There you go again." Madred smiled sarcastically. "More of those incisive, probing questions that almost cause me to lower my guard. No wonder they called you the best." 

Garak was about to reply; at that instant, a small pebble from overhead fell and splashed into the cup Madred had been holding. Madred chuckled, sincerely this time. "What timing - what perfect aim! If I didn't know better, Garak, I would have sworn you arranged that on purpose." He rose and beckoned to two other Cardassians who had just entered the area. "Put him back for now. I'm not ready to deal with him yet." Another tiny piece of rock fell and bounced on the tabletop as Garak eyed the ceiling with trepidation, before being hauled back to his cell. 

 

Where he spent at least the next twenty-six hours, as far as he could determine - he was all but forgotten in the tumult. Rock had shifted and the little pod carrying the one named Aatami had become trapped in the access tube - Garak overheard enough from his captors shouting in the distance to learn that much. That also meant he himself would never, never feel able to leave that place.

Jil Orra returned to him after a day, at first almost catatonic in her shock. She was coherent enough to bring him water and a few bites of food, and to let him out of the cell to stretch and take care of his other needs. Then she collapsed next to him on the ground in front of the doorway, nearly doubling over in her anguish. "Oh Garak! Oh Garak!" she wailed, beginning to scream a few seconds later, Garak holding her tightly against his chest. "Oh, I can't even think - I can't let myself think about -" She screamed once more, grabbing hold of his tunic, her face buried against him. "He's trapped there - the power went out so there's no light - or sound - and there he is, all by himself, in that little space - I can't imagine how he's suffering -" Another scream, that Garak tried again to muffle. 

He didn't tell her that Aatami had no doubt long since died through lack of oxygen - at least any suffering was probably very brief. But to suffer at all in that manner, to know that you were trapped with absolutely no hope of escape, no air, no way to move... He felt himself grow faint and began to breathe harder. "They worked for hours to free him - they tried everything. But all we have are the winches - we have no way to bore another tunnel to get to him. The power line was cut so we pulled and pulled, but there was too much rock... I guess... I don't know." She collapsed sideways onto the ground. "It's so stupid! So stupid!! The cargo pod made it down without any trouble at all! The stupid blankets and the food! And he didn't!"

Garak leaned down and held her tightly in his arms as she sobbed. "You asked me once..." she finally gasped. "You asked me once if I knew anyone my own age." She stopped, unable to go on. Garak felt his stomach clench. Aatami was probably just a boy. His nickname certainly sounded like it. And they had killed him. He wondered where Madred was, and why he wasn't consoling his daughter. He then heard a deep reverberation from overhead; had they somehow managed to shift the rock from out of the tunnel? Or was the tunnel itself going to collapse down on them? At that point, Jil crying underneath him and he with no hope of rescue, he hugged her more tightly and hoped that his own death would be quick, with no suffering - and that his beloved, Julian Bashir, if he ever found out, would likewise not suffer.


	12. Chapter 12

A few moments later, Madred himself came in search of his daughter and found her leaning against Garak as the two of them sat leaning, in turn, against the wall next to the cell. He carefully masked his anger, obviously not wishing to upset Jil Orra who was red-faced and incoherent from crying; he gently helped her to rise and then began to lead her away, his arm around her stooped shoulders. Garak had also risen, not knowing what Madred had planned for him - to his amazement, no one else was near and thus no one was trying to force him back into the cave. 

Trying to stifle his own sudden anger, he nevertheless called out, "Gul Madred! I need to speak with you!"

Madred barely glanced back. "Later. I'm sure you can see I have other concerns now."

"Of course." He too watched Jil with sympathy. "I'll be - at the table." Madred only nodded. 

Garak remembered the short route to the dining hall clearly, although he had never yet been permitted to walk it by himself. He resisted the urge to detour down other passages or into other rooms; he wanted to be where he had told Madred he'd be since, it now appeared, he had been given an opportunity at this tragic time to win trust. Then too, he had no idea if there were surveillance devices in the area. He also knew he'd have to be very, very careful about showing too much anger - Madred himself had a formidable temper and Garak did not have the upper hand in this setting should their mutual rage escalate. So he forced himself to remain calm. 

Madred appeared about ten minutes later, drawn and tired. He collapsed into a chair and rested his head in his hands. Garak scarcely knew how to begin, what to say to him in those circumstances.

Finally, cautiously, he spoke. "I wish someone would have remembered that I could have helped, instead of leaving me locked up all that time."

"Helped with what?" Madred exploded. "Help move fifty tons of rock out of a tunnel three hundred meters up? My sincere apologies, but we were otherwise occupied."

Garak breathed a silent prayer of thanks then for Jil and her eventual rescue of him. For all he knew, he'd still be locked up if he had been forced to depend on Madred or the others there. "I understand you tried to free the pod with the winches," Garak replied evenly. "I could have helped pull. I could have done something. Anything."

"It would have been no use." Madred sat back and slumped, defeated, in his chair. "No use. I didn't tell Jil Orra, but you've probably surmised that the poor boy was probably dead after the first hour or two. He must have been unable to reach his communicator either, because we never heard from him again after the accident. Or maybe he died instantly from the rock fall. We tried all night despite that, though. Horrible to think that he's still up there. He deserves a decent burial."

"But," Garak began, uncertain how far he could go, "but was there no provision for oxygen in that capsule? Any connection to ventilation? Any way to manually control it from inside?"

"Mr. Garak." Madred sighed. "We're a small group. We use what we can find, and what we can take. We did not have the means to renovate the capsules - most of our resources go into keeping the generators running. If those fail, well... none of us are going to get a decent burial, unless you count this place." He gestured around him. "It has many benefits, but ease of access is not one of them - but then, I suppose, in other ways it is indeed." 

The two sat silently for a few minutes, Madred with his eyes closed. Garak almost pitied him, then quietly and sincerely said, "I'm sorry for what happened. No one deserves that."

"Oh, do you think so?" Madred opened his eyes and glared at him. "How compassionate you seem now, Garak - how understanding of the sufferings of others. From what I well recall, the only understanding you and your father ever showed was when you inflicted more pain - you understood pain very well. Even better if it could be combined with terror, or betrayal, or revenge. An ordeal like the one Aatami went through would have been your specialty. I'm sure you're not shedding any tears over it, despite your avowals to my daughter and to me. One less person here to torment you."

"Please," Garak breathed, shocked. "Please understand. I do not wish for anyone to go through that. Madred, surely - surely you don't think that I ever enjoyed hurting others - I did everything in my power to avoid that outcome." He knew Madred was speaking from shock and exhaustion, but he continued. He wanted to say the words; he wanted Jil's father to hear them. He wanted Tain to hear them. "I never believed pain, torture, or terror, to be truly effective - despite the consensus of the time. My father and I disagreed heartily on that point."

"You're lying, as always. You were feared on Bajor as the 'son of Tain,' almost the equal of Tain himself. My heart bleeds for the way you claim to be misunderstood then, Garak. But I'm sure you left many Bajorans bleeding as well."

What did this have to do with the poor boy just sacrificed in the tunnels? Was Madred blaming himself? No doubt. He was also, no doubt, looking for an easy vent to his frustration. Who better than the son of his chief tormentor? Garak understood. He had often, to his shame, wanted to torment Bashir in just this way, blame him for all the mistakes he himself had made. Just as illogical - and just as futile. But the difference was that he loved Bashir and Bashir had... loved him back. Loved him. Past tense?

"Madred." Garak leaned forward. "Do you know the most effective way of winning information from a Bajoran? Do you?" Madred didn't answer. "You befriend him - you behave as if you've been won over to his cause and to the Prophets. You lie to him - yes, I perfected lying into a skill that was the equal of any technique my father ever taught. He scoffed heartily at that, you know. Mocked me for that." Madred looked vaguely skeptical; Garak continued. "But it worked. You force yourself to agree with the Bajoran - you agree with all his convictions about our people. You, if necessary, allow him to take you to his bed - Bajorans were passionate about the chance to sexually humiliate a Cardassian male. You swallow your pride and you do it."

Madred finally grinned at that, at the suggestive imagery. "Yes, your father taught you well after all. He was dedicated to the cause of removing all emotion from the act both of torture and of sex, as I recall. I even heard the stories about him demonstrating such techniques with you. His own son."

Garak closed his eyes at that memory; why was he giving Madred this satisfaction, leading him down this path, given Garak's relationship with his daughter? Because Madred was truly a torturer, an inflictor of pain and terror. Madred had never used temptations or persuasion when other weapons would serve. His unreasonable cruelty, in fact, was so well documented that not only the Order's influence but Central Command itself had long ago relegated him to backwater posts and insignificant assignments. Yet Madred, against every logic Garak could summon, appeared to be a loving and concerned father to an appealing if misguided daughter. Why had he himself not been given such a father? Why had he been given Enabran Tain? 

Was he jealous of Jil Orra? Was he in some way trying to hurt her, as he had been hurt? But he was also hurting himself, in more than one way. He had just done an expert job of confessing to Madred the exact plan he could have used against them - no more would it be possible to feign conversion to their cause. The taking of one of them to bed, however, he had already done. Without emotion, like Tain? No, never like Tain. Please, Julian, he silently called out, please try to find me. Please bring me back. I want to go back. I don't belong here any more. I'm not like that any more, despite what you may have come to believe.

*****

It was difficult to carry on as if nothing had happened, after you disappeared. It was difficult to pretend that sprained ankles and rashes were the most important things I had to think about, as I worked in the infirmary and checked my comm system every half hour or so for any news about you. It was difficult to see your empty shop every day, watched over now by Odo, and not see you there in my mind, and in my heart.

It was also difficult, exceedingly difficult, to realize that after the initial flurry of interest and concern about your disappearance, other issues were coming to the fore, other worries about the Dominion and about our enemies. About the station, too - systems were failing without the necessary equipment arriving often enough to fix them, residents were leaving, petty theft and vandalism were on the rise - and there you were, still missing - or, rather, there you were NOT. After a week, I began checking for news only every hour. After another week, I checked every two or three hours, sometimes a little less than that if things were busy.

But that didn't mean my thoughts weren't with you always. I had begun spending more and more time in Captain Sisko's quarters - can you believe that, Garak? Your disappearance actually had the effect of creating a friendship where none had existed before - I had never realized just how sympathetic he could be. I had never known how much he would actually care. I stopped by his quarters in the beginning, once or twice, just to talk, after I had assumed he and his son had finished their dinner. Then he, no doubt sensing my mood and my lack of concern for myself and taking pity on me, started inviting me to share dinner with them; afterward, we talked again while Jake either disappeared into his room or left to join friends. 

I sat in the half-darkness and talked. And talked. To his credit, Sisko never once hinted that I should go, that the hour was late - I always made the decision myself. The poor man must have been bored to tears at my rambling but he never looked away, never seemed uninterested, never turned the conversation back to himself and the life or death decisions he was no doubt having to make nearly every hour. He listened, and he answered, and he made me feel as if I finally had a - well, in some ways... a real father. 

That does seem to be rather a theme now, doesn't it? Did any one of us, you, me, your friend Jil Orra, have a father we could be truly proud of? But I had won the lottery, didn't I - I had come up with the prize. I had found Sisko, and through Sisko, I found you again. You know what, Garak - I miss him now almost as much as I missed you back then. And we don't know where he is, either, this time - and have even less chance of getting him back.

Anyway, one evening, a little over two weeks after you went missing, I was again sitting in Sisko's quarters, rambling on about my conscience and your presumed lack of one - we had wrestled the previous evening with the issue of your assistance in bringing the Romulans into the war. I had known about it but never confronted it head on - now I did. Sisko and I discussed it from every angle - the consequences if you, and he, had done nothing, the meaning of the greater good versus the individual, whether or not you had wanted to kill or only accepted it as a last resort, and finally - whether or not you were ever sorry for what you had done.

You had told me you were, at the time. I hadn't believed you but had hurriedly glossed over the act and said we should "move forward." I hadn't wanted to discuss it, and you seemed grateful at my neutral attitude. Little did you know I was being taken over by a vague sense of unease that slowly turned to horror after that, nursing it and tending it until it began to overshadow every single thing you did and said - as you've now learned. 

But do you know what Sisko said? He told me he had another "story" for me. I was getting a pretty good idea of where these stories were coming from, but I sat respectfully waiting and didn't say a word. He told me that this one was more a piece of advice than anything else. "I'm going to ask you an odd question. Please think about it and answer me honestly. Doctor... do you consider Garak, perhaps in some ways, as a brother to us now?" I slowly nodded. Interesting imagery - our brother, my father... I continued to wait. "So then what should we do, doctor, if Garak sins repeatedly against you, against us, let us say seven times, and seven times he asks us to forgive him? What should we do?"

I didn't answer. Give up? Say we're finished with you? Say we're tired of the lies, that we need some time apart?

"The best and the most difficult answer is this. We forgive him. We forgive him every time he asks us to. That doesn't always mean there are no consequences, or that we approve of what he has done. It means simply that we forgive him."

"I forgive you for whatever it is you did," I had said to you, holding your hand and staring deeply into your eyes all those years ago. And you know what, Garak? I did, and I do.

Two days later, Sisko received an anonymous message, just one word. "Bryma."


	13. Chapter 13

The monotony finally began to set in for Garak, over the following two weeks. Not at first, however - at first, Garak had all he could do to keep Jil Orra from falling into constant morbid obsession over the fate of Aatami - Garak had rescued her at least a dozen times from her lonely vigil at the base of the access tube in which the boy had perished, and was still imprisoned. She would call up the tunnel to him while lying on the ground underneath, listening for hours for any sound. Every once in a while, a small shower of soil or of pebbles would rain down - very small, but Garak had a horrifying mental image of the entire mass of rock shifting again and the trapped capsule crashing down, the mangled and lifeless body inside. 

His compassion, however, was made even more difficult to offer because of the baleful looks and the insidious threats Madred would send his way whenever he happened to see Garak with his daughter. Madred in his own way and in his own time was also trying to comfort her, but his preoccupation with other news on the Cardassian front above ground meant that his moments devoted to consolation were brief. 

None of the other visitors who came and went, at unpredictable intervals via the remaining access tubes, seemed to pay much attention at all to Jil Orra, and Garak began to realize that the girl's loneliness was quite keen. No wonder the already horrifying incident had taken on such overwhelming significance for her. At the same time, because she had been deprived of the one person, Garak assumed, who had provided her with consistent regard and attention there, she now turned back to Garak and gave up the slight air of bullying intimidation she had formerly been using toward him, no doubt in imitation of her father.

It was both a comfort and a problem, as Madred's constant disapproval made clear. Garak had continued to spend his sleep periods in the storage alcove where he had been kept for his first nights, but this time with the door open and unlocked. It was a fair distance removed from the rooms where the other occupants slept, and it thus gave Jil the privacy she needed to pay Garak several nighttime visits. So far, all she had ever tried to coax from him was the same close sleeping arrangement she had already assumed. Often, though, it would be face to face instead of face to back, as Garak put his arms around her and held her to him while she cried. 

Finally, however, she began hinting for something more. 

"Garak - you can't tell me you don't miss what we did," she cooed late one night - or early one morning, Garak was never quite sure - as she lay snuggled against his chest. He didn't deny that she felt soft and comfortable, there on that hard floor, and he could also not deny that his body missed the release to which he had begun to grow accustomed with Bashir, after his long period of abstinence. But that was the point. His abstinence even before his exile had been not only from sex but from love - he had never been loved until Julian Bashir loved him, and taught him everything that meant. 

Now Garak was strong enough to be able to give back, but what he gave to Jil was not his heart and he no longer wished to mislead her. He no longer craved the acceptance she offered him - he again longed for that from one person only. Jil, however, was very young and very naive and hopeful. She suddenly bit hard into a neckridge, causing Garak to not only gasp in pain but briefly in arousal, before he roughly pushed her away.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized at her shocked expression. "I'm so sorry, my sweet Jil. But I must remind you again that I'm a prisoner - I'm not about to disobey a direct order from your father, my captor - despite what you may wish to pretend." Jil started to shake her head. "If you truly care for me," he urged her, "you'd work to improve my situation here, not undermine all my efforts to cooperate."

She was silent at that, no doubt considering what he said, and then simply settled quietly into his arms. But he was worried. He had no way to leave the mine - even if he had an inclination to ascend to the surface in a pod, one could not do that without the knowledge and even the cooperation of others, to operate the winches, provide power to the lines, and check for any abnormalities. It was not like crawling through a ventilation shaft on DS9 - and that sort of movement had never been within Garak's mental capability either, so how could this be? No, he was trapped, with no discernible means of escape.

Trapped in a mundane existence in which the mysterious individuals who came and went paid him almost no attention either - Garak had begun to think of them as Madred's goons. Followers, more likely. He noticed that Madred never actually said he was with the True Way - he was only "affiliated" with it, for the return to glory of his version of Cardassia. No doubt his ego was much too large to be subsumed under the banner of a cause in which he was only one player among many. 

Madred had revealed that his group had disrupted shipping and government communication - it appeared that the main weapon at their disposal was the untraceable nature of their communications array, rather than overt violence on the outside or torture inside the caverns. Garak had been expecting other prisoners like himself to be sent down - none were. Madred and his "followers" spent many hours each day, instead, at computers and communication equipment, equipment at which Garak had only been permitted to glance from a distance. Those rooms were guarded and secured in a manner that would have made the Order proud - he had no hope of penetrating them, at least without many many more weeks or months of secret study. 

Jil, however, went in and out of them freely. Garak recalled how Tain had always shared the barest minimum of information with him, had not even told him a detail in advance about any of the assignments on which he would be sent at Tain's own order. His house, his records were always sealed to Garak, and never was there a single moment in which Tain would ask him for opinions or advice. But Jil, this sixteen year old girl, brought her father his meals and then sat near him and observed - or so she told Garak - while he worked at the most covert tasks, watching how he scrambled messages and images, how he coaxed information out of locked files and directories, how he played the most complex security systems like an instrument. He had been shamed out of his profession as a military interrogator and, it appeared to Garak, had found redemption in another profession, one that required a great deal more intelligence and cunning. Garak almost respected him now for that - almost.

It also finally occurred to him that his own capture had been precipitated more likely because of his work decoding Cardassian transmissions than by his past activities as an agent of the Order. He had been sure at first that he'd be tortured by Madred in that dungeon, as some sort of bizarre revenge; then he was sure he was there because Madred had convinced himself of a cruel edge in his captive which could be put to use. When even that possibility failed to materialize, Garak finally came to the conclusion that Madred was going to be content to simply wear him down with boredom and hopelessness; eventually, he could be controlled and made to cooperate, as there was never a way he was going to be able to leave. Madred was not even especially interested in his past, it appeared; his emotional vendetta against Tain traveled to his son but then stopped there and stagnated. 

Which was a relief after all. Garak was as brave as any skilled agent, far braver than most Cardassians, but he was tired of fighting and was becoming weary of having to endure pain, at least the sadistic, unreasoning pain and terror with no hope of compassion that had so marked his earlier life. What had bravery ever gotten him then? Did his father ever profess admiration for him, or pride, or esteem - or love - at anything he ever endured in his constant attempts to please him? "I'm disappointed in you, Elim. You're going to try again. Don't let me down now in front of the others. I'm sure there are one or two who suspect who you are." He could not go through that again, not even for Tain. Not even to prove himself to his father.

So he was not prepared, two nights later, for Madred and three other men to come storming at him in his little alcove, haul him to his feet, and drag him to the small cargo pod where they pushed him, screaming in protest, into it. He lasted only about thirty seconds there before losing consciousness. Tain would have been ashamed.

*****

Bryma. I knew that term, but I wasn't sure why. Sisko and Odo quickly enlightened me. Bryma was the name of a Cardassian-controlled colony world in the former demilitarized zone. Not a large planet, but still - a planet. Even with that clue, eliminating millions of hiding places in Cardassian space, that still left thousands of possible locations to search.

Or did it? Garak, I don't think we'll ever be able to give credit to Sisko, or to his memory, for all the facts the man was capable of remembering and then putting together when he needed to. Odo and I sat in his office, despairing over the Herculean task ahead of us - Bryma was home to dozens of settlements, hundreds of more isolated farms and perhaps an additional fifty quarries, mines and forestry operations. A man could be held in any one of them; Madred could have allies anywhere. But Sisko sat at his desk, staring at us through steepled fingers, not speaking, not even seeming to be aware of what we were saying. 

"Ladarium."

"What?" Odo looked over at him. 

"Bryma has ladarium mines. It's a source of ladarium, along with a few other planets such as Volan III. That's one of the things that makes it unique among those colony worlds. But Bryma was never able to produce at a decent level. Most of the mines are very small, or abandoned now."

"What does that have to do with Gul Madred? Why would he care about a ladarium mine?" I asked. 

"For a fuel source?" Odo theorized. "For any ships he managed to procure?"

"Not necessarily. For a hiding place." Sisko continued to stare off into the distance. 

"Certainly he could hide there," I agreed, "but he could hide anywhere."

"But ladarium in large enough quantities scrambles transmissions and signals. Ladarium distributed throughout the rock layers at a mine would reroute subspace transmissions, making them impossible to trace. It's certainly one way of explaining the mysterious origin of the messages you and I received. It would also mask lifesigns so that not even our Federation scanners could penetrate it."

"Yes," Odo agreed, "it would. But it would likewise make transporters inoperable. Very difficult to do any sort of investigation, even without the added issue of the planet now being in Cardassian space."

"It was always Cardassian anyway, Constable. It's close to Athos IV, though - very close. And that was Federation. Too bad we lost it."

"But sir," I began warming to that theme, "I could imagine a possible mission to check for any remaining settlers there, then an unfortunate drifting off course, shall we say, and a quick orbit around Bryma to re-establish our heading back to DS9." 

"An interesting plan," Odo nodded, expressionless, "but there are no remaining settlers and the Cardassians know that - along with the Dominion, no doubt. And that's assuming we would even have the resources for such a mission. More importantly, though, it's assuming Garak indeed wants to be found, that he's even the one who sent the message."

"Of course he is - of course he does, I mean," I quickly said. Both sets of eyes turned to look at me. 

"I tend to agree with you," Sisko replied, watching me, "but I think that's only because it's what I'd like to believe as well. I did, after all, directly receive that transmission - I did not intercept it. However, Starfleet may have other thoughts. You yourself, doctor, were well aware that Garak has ample motivation for deserting this base and returning to Cardassian territory. That message could be a trap, or at least a deception."

"Yes, but -"

"But while you now want to believe otherwise about him, Starfleet may hear the facts surrounding his disappearance and refuse to authorize any sort of mission to find him."

"Do you have to tell them?" I asked Sisko. "Couldn't we just -"

"No. I'll inform them of all aspects the situation, and our suspicions, and wait for their response. Bryma is not far but it's well within Cardassian space and provoking them may be the last thing we should do at this time. It may be the case that we need to sacrifice Mr. Garak - for the time being." I shook my head in denial. 

Less than 52 hours later, Sisko had his decision. Starfleet said no. No potential rescue mission, at least at that time, under any circumstances. They'd find other means to continue your decoding work, they said. For all intents and purposes, you were gone.


	14. Chapter 14

After two hours, Garak's ersatz "coffin" was opened and he was lifted up out of it - as he struggled back to consciousness, all he heard was Madred's voice rebuking him, over and over, "I knew this was a mistake. What did you send?" He shook his head, not comprehending. "What did you send?" Still nothing - he was having trouble even understanding the words. Disgusted, the three assistants with Madred pushed Garak back into the container; he was barely resisting, though, so it really didn't take much effort. Then he was closed in again, again he heard and felt nothing but his chest heaving and his breath roaring in his ears, before he fell back into oblivion.

He had, naturally, no sense of time or of anything else in that capsule; at some points, he'd drift slowly into consciousness, remember or ascertain where he was, and the ensuing panic attack would send him back down into a black hole. He seldom even tried to pound on the walls from the inside. Muffled sounds occasionally reached him but he had no idea if they were from his captors or from dreams or hallucinations. Finally, though, one voice seemed to pierce through the thick fog, one voice almost screaming, sometimes saying his name, sometimes very close by, sometimes receding. It seemed then that the very next thing he heard was the sound of Jil Orra crying, leaning over him, as he blinked against the light. The caverns were hot and humid but the air felt almost cool after the stifling suffocation of the capsule.

They were alone. Jil helped him to his feet; the pod was attached to the cables near the tunnel opening but had been pulled away from it so that it was lying on its side, indeed like a coffin. Garak stepped out of it and then sank down to the ground, his knees buckling. Jil was beside herself with fury.

"How dare they?? How DARE they?!" she raged, Garak still dazed and incoherent. "How dare they do something like that the minute I go up top!"

"Go up top?" Garak managed to repeat.

"Yes - I needed some air. I was starting to get dizzy down here. So I asked if I could go up top to help unload the supplies. I assume that it was right after I left that they-"

"You mean you willingly traveled all the way back to the surface in one of those - in one of those -"

"Yes - I had to. That's the only way." She stopped and eyed the cargo container and her anger flared up once more. "But it was in a passenger capsule, not that thing! I was wondering why they told us they were fixing it! Fixing it!! How DARE they!!" she shouted again. 

Garak sighed. He wanted to tell Jil what her father had asked him but found that he was still too disoriented to remember the words. So he closed his eyes and simply allowed himself to breathe, leaning back against the capsule that had been his prison just moments earlier. Jil sat down next to him and answered the implicit question anyway.

"They told me they thought you had sent a message. How do they think you could even have broken in to any of their precious equipment? They never even stopped to think that -" she paused, then went on, " - to think that maybe *I* was the one who sent the stupid message."

"And were you?" Garak turned to watch her.

"Of course. I told them it was a mistake, a slip of my hand, that I don't even know what I sent. But I do."

"What did you send?" He waited, then asked again. Still no answer. Then he recalled that Madred had been repeating that exact question to him. Jil was just as impervious to the request, only replying, "I hid it pretty well, but I guess not well enough. So they could still tell that something was transmitted, just not what, or to where. Damn it. I messed up after all."

"Jil," he took a deep breath and laid a hand on her arm, "why am I here?"

"Why are you here?" She was stalling, very obviously. His question could not possibly have been so difficult to understand. So he didn't repeat it. Finally she faltered, "You're here to help us."

"No I'm not. I'm not permitted anywhere near any of the work areas. I sit in my little cave all day, or walk a bit around the tunnels. Jil - I have to ask again, why did you want to bring me here?"

"Why did *I* want to bring you here?"

"Please!" Now he was annoyed. "You traveled all the way to Deep Space Nine to find me, you lured me here under the pretext of helping you get home, and now here we sit, at the bottom of a mine, your father furious with me and now torturing me in ways you've obviously taught him."

"I did not!" Jil jumped to her feet. "Never! No one would like being shut up in one of those things, Garak - it certainly isn't just you. I said nothing to him about doing that."

Part of that was true enough. "Still, I can't help thinking that he knows I have a particular weakness in that area. A weakness I confessed to you during our time on the station." 

"I didn't tell him -"

"You told him everything else - why not that too?" He sighed and slumped back against the capsule. "My dear Jil Orra, I realize, just as your father said, that so much of what you've told me all these weeks is a lie." She looked wounded. "Yet in every one of the lies, you do manage to work in a little bit of the truth too. We, my dear, are very, very much alike." He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed again, more deeply. "So, given that, why would *I* have brought someone like me here, to this setting? To my father? What would I have been hoping to accomplish?" 

Jil remained silent, now staring straight ahead. Garak took her hand to pull her back down and laced his fingers through hers - the lightheadedness was starting to dissipate and he felt much more sure of himself, much more able to think. This young girl was not much of a challenge to him after all. "I'm a trophy, aren't I? A sort of hunting trophy? Something you could bring back to him to demonstrate your skill. He wasn't the one who wanted to do this - you did."

"He was disgusted with the way you were working against Cardassia," was all she replied.

"But Jil, so is he, is he not? And I don't think he would have decided to send you to stop me - I don't think he necessarily wanted me here at all, despite what he said to me. I think you persuaded him that you should be allowed to go after me, that I'd be a useful prize. He's very proud of you - your request must have piqued his interest."

She finally turned to him and gripped his hand more tightly. "Oh, and I was good, too! I thought of just about everything! We couldn't have your friends chasing right after you so I managed to turn the most important one away from you - with my father's help. He sent the messages, I made sure to make it obvious about how close we were becoming."

"So you did bite me."

"Of course I did, you ninny," she snorted, almost laughing. "I knew you'd be running right back to him later after you fell asleep in my room. That's why I climbed into the bed with you that other time, in case he'd come by. You're a very sound sleeper, you know." She mimed the hand motions of a syringe. "I have to admit, though..." She stopped.

"Yes?" Garak prodded her, a sardonic smile tugging involuntarily at the corners of his mouth. He really would have to congratulate her someday - this was all very clever indeed. All very well thought out, almost comical, how he had been manipulated - by a sixteen year old girl. How far indeed had he fallen - and all because he had started wanting to believe in people, believe the lies they told of how much they cared for him. Bashir, and now Jil...

"I have to admit that I never thought you'd develop such a crush on me. I thought I'd make you angry, more than anything, with the way I talked to you, and that you'd try to intimidate me instead."

"I'm tired of intimidating people, Jil," he murmured, letting go of her hand. "I'm just tired. This 'crush' you accuse me of," the actual word in Kardasi was likewise a slang term for an infatuation but with undertones of foolish naivete, "I simply thought you needed me." 

"Well I don't. "

"Obviously." Neither one spoke.

"Oh, you're so nice, though," she finally relented, resting her head on his shoulder. "And so cute." Garak closed his eyes in defeat and let her remain there.

*****

"So that's it, then," I snarled, pacing around Odo's office. Garak, my words were exactly the ones I used toward you all those years ago when you wanted to give up and die because of the wire. And now you were being granted your wish, all because of this girl - and perhaps because of me. Don't think I hadn't been giving obsessive thought to the nagging suspicion that I myself may have done more than my share to drive you away. Whatever the reason you left, it couldn't have helped that what you had most recently been hearing from me was, "I think I need time apart - please stay away - I can't be with someone like you right now." I can't even imagine what I would have done if you had ever said those words to me, and meant them in the same way I did. 

"We're letting him die."

"We're not trying to locate him at this time. That's a far different thing."

"No it isn't - not once he's trapped there long enough with those people."

"Doctor," Odo began, giving me that supercilious look he occasionally displayed, "You yourself were convinced that he WANTED to be with 'those people.'"

"Yes, I know!" I shot back. "As everyone keeps justifiably reminding me. I know exactly what I said."

"Then why -"

"Because he's - because -" I stopped; to my shock, and in my frustration, tears had started to form and I could hear them in my voice too. "Because I can't surrender him without at least making sure that's what he really wants. He had a bruise, Odo - and he never, never would have left permanently without even trying to tell me why. Not after all these years. Not after all we've been through together." Then, more quietly, "Not after all we've meant to each other."

"Doctor, was he -"

"Yes! Yes he was! For years now! As I believe you've already heard! In fact, I thought it would be for the rest of our lives, that's how strongly we felt about each other! Was that a crime, Odo?" I glared at him, challenging him to say more.

"I was simply going to ask if he was still experiencing increased levels of stress. It's possible his thinking was impaired in some way. Maybe he was looking to escape again, but on a ship this time, not through an airlock."

I nodded, somewhat embarrassed at my outburst. On the other hand, Odo always knew exactly what he was doing, so perhaps my misinterpretation wasn't totally inaccurate. "True - it's possible. I suppose. But he had plenty of other chances to do that, and he could have told me his plans. I had even suggested once that he continue his therapy on Earth."

"But you two weren't speaking now."

"Can't we just get back to the real issue?" I exploded. Yes, Garak, I was paying for every stupid thing I had said - exactly what I deserved. But not what you deserved. "How are we going to search for him? How are we going to get him back, if Starfleet won't allow a rescue?"

Odo sat back and regarded me silently for a moment. "Doctor - has Captain Sisko always done exactly what Starfleet allows?" I waited, giving no reaction. "I have contacts on Andor - that ship on which Garak was a passenger is still missing - no doubt on another unsanctioned mission. But there are other Andorians who are more willing to cooperate with us. To the extent of perhaps finding out where the passengers were taken and checking to see if, just perhaps, any of them are available for a return trip."

I stared, open-mouthed, at him. "Are you saying Sisko would -"

"Sisko would know nothing about it." Odo gave a barely detectable shrug. "Officially nothing. But if you were to find yourself on that ship, perhaps because medical assistance was urgently needed by the crew, and perhaps if you then inadvertently found yourself briefly traveling into Cardassian space, say - perhaps to Bryma -"

He didn't need to continue. "When do I leave?" I asked. Yes I did, Garak - without hesitation. I am not changing one detail here to impress you. That is exactly what I said.


	15. Chapter 15

It was relatively easy to propose such a plan; it was much more difficult to put it into practice. Odo at first had very little success persuading his Andorian contacts that it would be in their best interests to help us. Andor was in the Federation but wasn't, at this time of war, one of our closest allies, and they were reluctant to involve themselves in anything that could look like collaboration with Sisko and Starfleet. It didn't help that the entire mission was operating well outside official knowledge and official channels, both on our side and theirs. Andor had been threatened by the Dominion and the last thing the "official" channels would have countenanced was an antagonistic mission into Cardassian, and thus Dominion, space.

But Odo had always had a knack for bypassing official channels, in this as in most other things. Garak, I think I miss him more than anyone now. I know you do too. I know he's happy now, and I assume he's finally found the true meaning for which he searched his whole life, but what a consciousness, what a personality, to lose from my own life - what a waste. But that's unfair. His decision was made rationally and carefully - and he helped me get you back, after you had - no, I won't keep dwelling on this, but you have to allow me just this once, - after you had made your own decision, somewhat less rationally and carefully, to leave with Jil Orra.

One thing that also worked in our - and your - favor was that an Andorian crew and vessel had assisted in your kidnapping - you weren't a Federation citizen but you were protected by our laws as a resident of DS9 and, of course, were in the midst of helping Starfleet as a special agent - so again, Odo was able to coax some grudging cooperation out of our reluctant allies.

I spent a lot of time after that meeting wondering what you were doing, how well or how badly you were being treated. Now that I know a little more of what happened, I alternate between anger at Madred and, in an odd way, sympathy for him - not even Starfleet could bend him, and certainly not Central Command, but he was putty in the hands of that daughter of his, really. I don't think he had any idea of what to do with you after Jil Orra brought you down there - it was like a ten year old boy being given a real ship instead of a toy one for a birthday present. Well, he deserved her. With just a small change in the life she had been given, maybe with a mother to nurture her, she could have been different - less hard, less calculating, less cynical - but a great deal less clever, and also probably dead now on Cardassia. No, I think she was exactly what she was supposed to be, for herself and for you.

And don't get your hopes up, my love - I'm not finished discussing her with you yet. I'm very grateful you told me the truth this time (or so I'm hoping,) but Garak - sixteen? What were you -? Did you never once give any thought to the fact that - never mind. I told you - I forgive you! And don't worry - I understand; I can well see the part I played in that little romance too. But we'll still talk about it. I have more to discuss with you eventually - after you read this... when I finally let you read this.

*****

"Garak?" Jil Orra stood hesitantly outside Garak's little cell as he slowly awoke. "My father and I had another talk. He's sorry for what he did."

"Is he?" Garak rolled onto his side, since he couldn't stand anyway - and faced her. "He has an odd way of showing it. Locking me up again -"

"That's only because you went so crazy yesterday."

"So would you, if you had been shut up in that thing."

"I know, I know," she tried to appease him, "but remember, after I got back he was willing to leave you alone. He was sorry. Then you have to go screaming at him and lunging for him like that."

Garak smiled at the memory. It had felt good to give in to a burst of good old-fashioned rage - he had launched himself at Madred, sliding at him through all the food and the dishes on the long table, like some sort of avenging desert flayer. He had created quite a mess, though, and certainly had no hope of reaching Madred and doing any actual harm to him, giving him that much warning of his intentions. Far better to have simply and calmly walked around the table and come up behind him. But no matter - the catharsis had been worth it. Earned him a long night locked up in his sleeping cave again but worth it - he had only later realized that they could also have forced him back into the cargo pod; he had better watch his step more carefully from now on. But what was done was done.

"He understands why you were upset -"

"Does he?" Garak smiled sarcastically.

"Yes he does! Garak, would you just let me talk to you!" Jil was becoming frustrated; Garak held his tongue. "He says I can let you out of here now - you should probably avoid him for a couple of days, though. I'll bring you your meals somewhere else."

"And yet he doesn't feel the need to avoid ME - no, all right, I'm sorry, I'll be good." He saw her smile in relief. Just at that instant, a shower of pebbles and dust rained down from overhead, accompanied by a deep rumble far off in the distance. Faint, but lasting several seconds. Jil, her eyes wide, hurriedly unlocked the door and then rushed down the passage to the base of the tunnel in which Aatami's body was still trapped, Garak at her heels. But nothing had changed there. Her communicator beeped soon after, and she left to talk to her father, Garak remaining behind, staring up into the tunnel and putting his hands out to deflect the small bits of gravel that were showering down on him. 

The rumbling continued all that day and into the next several days, and even though Garak had tacitly been given the run of most of the mine for now, he could not bring himself to do much exploration; debris continually drifted down, especially in the narrower passages, and the temperature seemed to be rising as well. That in itself was not a cause for discomfort yet, but the fact that it was increasing at all was the worry, not only for him but for the other inhabitants of that underground hiding place. Jil Orra was true to her word and brought Garak food, sometimes even remaining with him as long as she dared while he ate, before returning to her father. 

One night, Garak was not at all surprised to awake to find her joining him, as usual, again lying down behind him. He was no longer quite sure if allowing even that much contact was really the best decision, not only because of Madred's disapproval but, in reality, his own. He no longer wished to give her the hope that their "relationship" was anything more than friendship. He thought he had recently made that clear, but had still not forbid her sleeping near him - perhaps that, too, would now need to change. But he was also trapped there with her and didn't wish to alienate the one person who seemed to care about his welfare. Madred was either actively cruel or passively unconcerned; the other Cardassians who came and went seldom spoke to Garak, barely looked him in the eye, and seemed all too eager to have him out of the way. 

But Jil brought him occasional news and told him how much she appreciated his sympathy for Aatami. In fact, that incident had continued to bring them back together in a remarkable way - it was as if Jil, too, knew that she had an ally in Garak and no longer wished to do anything to alienate him either. He began to wonder if she regretted bringing him there; his abduction had been very well planned and, were he a different sort of man, had the potential of helping Madred's cause to an extraordinary degree. But Garak could not be won over any longer. He knew deep in his soul that the only Cardassia he wanted now was a Cardassia in which Julian Bashir could also live, happily and productively. That was the only Cardassia he wished to build, and he wanted to build it with the help of the Federation. He would never be won over to a cause like Madred's, ever. They'd have to let him go, or kill him. And, imprisoned as he was in that mine, the two would basically amount to the same thing.

That night, Jil began quietly speaking to him in the dark. "Garak, have you been noticing all the dust lately? The instruments are showing more tremors, and they're getting closer all the time." Garak said nothing but his heart had begun to pound faster. "That's probably one reason why this was abandoned in the first place. And I'm sure you're noticing the temperature keeps going up - the ground's not even cold any more." Garak nodded. "My father says that's probably due to rock movement."

"So what are you telling me?" Garak finally whispered, not even turning his head. But he knew what she was telling him.

"We may have to start thinking about leaving this place. Maybe soon - we don't know yet."

"All of us?"

"Well, of course all of us. My father wouldn't leave you here." She sounded certain of that; Garak was unconvinced.

"Oh, I think he most definitely could be persuaded to. But Jil, you know I can't leave even if he invites me himself. I can never get back into one of those capsules. Never. Especially now."

"But -"

"Never." He closed his eyes and didn't speak. After a moment, he heard Jil whisper again behind his back.

"But you got down here in one. We strapped you into one. What if we just put you into another nice, deep, restful sleep-"

"NO!" he almost shouted, causing Jil to shush him worriedly. "No, please, I beg you not to do that. If anything goes wrong, if I get stuck -" He didn't want to continually bring up the specter of Aatami's death, but went on, "I don't want to wake up trapped in one of those things. Please do me that much kindness. I'd rather face death down here than that way."

"Garak!" she exclaimed, shocked, "Garak, you can't mean that! You HAVE to leave! If we go, what are you going to do down here? No food, very little water, no power after the generators run out..." She clasped him tightly. "You're calmly telling me that this is it - that when I brought you here, you were never going to leave. Ever again. You were going to stay here until you died."

He nodded. 

"Garak!" she cried again. "Garak! You can't be serious! You're just saying that to torture me!" He remained resolutely silent until her weeping caused him to relent - but only a little. He, to his shock, found that he wanted just a little revenge after all. On her.

"I warned you back on the station, Jil. I told you. I suffer rather seriously from claustrophobia. You already knew that, yet you brought me here. In fact, I had thought that was part of the reason you did. So you have no right to be surprised, and certainly not now after what your father and his friends did to me." 

"Oh, but," she sniffled, "I mean, yes, that was part of it. My father knew you had a problem. Part of my job was to confirm it. But-" 

"Then why are you crying?" His voice was cold. He didn't care. "This has all worked out perfectly for you. Your mission was a success, and you've even managed to have me executed without lifting a finger - I can no longer trouble your father or your cause, once you leave here."

"Garak!" she sobbed. "Garak, no, this isn't what I wanted! I didn't want you to DIE, I just wanted to show I was smarter than you were. My father said with Enabran Tain gone, you were the best now. That's why Starfleet wanted you. I told him I would be able to stop you without killing you. He laughed at me but said I was welcome to try. So we worked all this up together. I mean, I thought it up, and he helped me - and now you're telling me that I DID kill you."

Garak said nothing. That seemed to be punishment enough for her. He had already wearied of hurting her, and wanted nothing more than to lose himself in his own isolation and self-pity for just a little while. He was not prepared for her next words.

"Well, all right, if you're so intent on dying, then die. But I don't think your friends are going to let you die. That message my father accused you of sending - the one I sent? It went to Deep Space Nine. I changed my mind. I could only get one word out, but I hope they'll think it was from you." She said nothing more, leaving Garak to stare, wide-eyed and now wide awake, at the opposite wall until he felt her sleep against him.


	16. Chapter 16

Sisko came to see me in the infirmary a day or two later, ostensibly for a routine physical, shortly before the little Andorian ship with the "medical emergency" was due to arrive. That way, there would be no possible indication of a secret meeting of any sort - in reality, of course, that was the entire purpose of his visit. He cautioned me again about assuming any unnecessary risks on this mission.

"I can't afford to lose my chief medical officer over this. We're doing this for ourselves and for Mr. Garak, with the knowledge however that he may have chosen to leave and will not be willing to accompany you back here. You need to be prepared to accept that."

"I know, sir," I nodded. "But I no longer feel that's going to be the case. I believe he's being held against his will. The only problem will be freeing him."

"I agree. Remember, though, that we're not trying to apprehend Madred, or his daughter, or anyone else associated with them. We're simply trying to locate and retrieve Garak. Again, taking no unnecessary risks."

That sounded slightly humorous to my ears - I was being sent to "retrieve" you, Garak. And I would, gladly, now. The only issue was choosing the most efficacious method of, ah, "retrieval." 

"Your job is to quickly evaluate the situation, communicate your presence to him, and get him out of there. If you can."

"I can." Sisko gave me a slight look of surprise. 

"Then I wish you the best. Our thoughts are all with you. Unofficially, of course." I smiled. "Oh, and one other thing."

"Yes, sir?"

"When you find Garak," not if, but when, I noted gratefully, "remember what I told you about forgiveness. I didn't give you the full story - I may have misspoken about part of it."

"Oh - the part about forgiving someone seven times."

"Correct - that was it. The actual advice was to forgive not seven times, but seventy times seven."

"You're not serious! Four hundred and ninety times?!"

"At the very least. Garak has no doubt been through a lot, both now and in the past. We need him back, doctor, and I think I'm safe in assuming - so do you." I nodded again. "Then go find him. Good luck." He clapped me on the shoulder.

 

Two days later, and I was uncomfortably ensconced on the Andorian vessel - it rattled and creaked nearly as ominously as an old Bird of Prey but without the solidity. To my relief, though, its scanners were the equivalent of, if not the Reliant's, then certainly those of a fairly well-equipped Starfleet exploration vessel, not simply a transport like a runabout. So we made several quick passes over Bryma, searching for anything "unusual." Can you imagine, Garak, what a task that was. At least most of the crew spoke Standard, to a greater or lesser degree, so I was able to understand them without worrying about any nuances that the universal translator might have missed.

The crew had not been able to get much information after all from the Andorian ship that dropped Jil and Garak off at this wilderness, beyond the fact that they were told a crew member had beamed down to the surface to "assist" with Garak and to make sure that someone else was there to greet the two arrivals. From that, I surmised that - exactly as expected - you had either been restrained or were unconscious at that time. And in either case, why would there have been any doubt that others would be available there to assist? Unless, of course, they weren't on the surface itself but needed to travel up from underground.

So that left the mines, I thought, especially in light of Sisko's opinion. But there were over two dozen mines on Bryma. Where to start? Many of them were located in the planet's southern hemisphere - those seemed to be the active ones, as we discerned a fair amount of Cardassian movement on land near each one, or just below the surface, vehicles driving in and out, communicators operating. We had to be very, very careful to remain undetected. But again, something made me wonder - if you had been taken to an active mine to be driven underground, why would Jil Orra have needed assistance for that after the beamdown? Wouldn't there have been others all around the area to help? No, you were probably taken to a place far less active, far more remote.

The abandoned mines were located mostly in the northern hemisphere, and it didn't take long for the Andorian scanners to also register the fact that seismic activity was much more prevalent in the northern hemisphere - in fact, we registered two sizable quakes within two hours of each other as we orbited. But even here, there were at least seven or eight mine sites, as far as we could tell, and since all of them were either abandoned or mostly inactive, it's not as if we could beam down to each one to look around and see how far below we could explore.

We, of course, knew that no scanners would penetrate far into any of these mines in our search for lifesigns. And even if one could do that, what would we find in any inhabited ones but - Cardassians! No way to tell if they were the right ones, with not much more precision than that - but the Andorian captain reminded me that it was unlikely that we'd find female lifesigns in any of the mines except the one where Madred's daughter was also present, given Cardassian custom, so we kept scanning. And scanning. Until we found something - not a lifesign, but something so horrific that I don't think I'll ever be able to adequately describe the shock I felt when I imagined what they had done to you, Garak. It'll take a long, long time for me to get over that first terrifying impression. The true story from you later wasn't much better but at least it was not an instance of deliberate execution by torture, as I had believed.

We had found indications of a Cardassian - a male, most likely - trapped in an access tube leading down into a mine. There were no lifesigns remaining in the body, however, but the structure in which he was imprisoned was close enough to the surface that our scanners revealed him anyway, despite that. They had put you in some kind of capsule, lowered you into the ground, and left you there. That was my thought. My second thought, against the quite understandable protests of the Andorians, was that you were not going to remain there. I was going to bring you back, just as I told Sisko I would. You were coming home with me no matter what.

*****

Jil Orra screamed and screamed but it was no use, Garak did not return and no one was willing any longer to go in search of him. The tremors had continued for the next three days, growing closer and more ominous even as the temperature increased a few degrees each day, until Madred came to the inescapable conclusion that the hiding place, as well as a good deal of the communications equipment so painstakingly installed, would have to be sacrificed. It was time to evacuate. Jil ran to Garak to tell him the news - several pods filled with cargo had already been sent to the surface and unloaded, then returned without incident to the base of the mine, and now it was time for the remaining inhabitants to join the few already on the surface. A ship had been alerted and was being dispatched to them, and all that remained was to flee before the bedrock would shift and trap yet another capsule, or two, just as Aatami's had already been trapped. One of the remaining two passenger capsules, in fact, had recently been deemed too damaged to continue in use, so that left only one very vulnerable means of escape.

Jil's face was streaked with tears and sweat as she slid down into the sand next to Garak, who was resolutely planted against the wall near his cell, hugging his knees. "We're leaving! Come on! We've got to leave NOW! You can't stay here!" Garak didn't look up. "Please, Garak! My father says you have to come with us! He doesn't want you to die either! It's bad enough we lost Aatami - so please listen to me! PLEASE come! NOW!!"

But there was nothing. Garak did not move, did not speak. He was trying to do what his father had always tried to teach him - he wanted to remove himself from the emotion of that moment and lose his fear. He did not, of course, want to die in that manner - he wanted to go back home, he wanted to see Bashir again and again try to apologize, he wanted to wake up in the doctor's bed and feel loved and needed and cherished. He wanted to live. But his mind could no longer grasp the possibility of ever willingly trapping himself in a tomb like that again - he could not do it. Jil was crying at him, screaming at him, and he looked over to her lovely but stricken face and could only form two words - "I'm sorry." He thought he saw her reach for something - another syringe? A hypospray? A rock? There was no time even to find out - he leapt to his feet and ran. Far, far into the tunnels, with gravel and even small rocks bouncing off his back as he ran; Jil was able to follow him for only a hundred meters or so before her father called her back. It was time to go - she screamed for Garak once more but then turned and ran back to the others.

*****

Two particularly adventurous Andorians accompanied me to the surface - two out of the small crew of about ten or so. Two wouldn't be enough if we'd need to do any actual fighting, but two were more than enough to help me explore, get the lay of the land and figure out how to reach your body in its prison tunnel. But at first, there seemed very little for us to explore - a series of abandoned sheds loomed in front of us when we dematerialized, along with an odd assortment of towers and cables and frameworks, as if wells had been drilled at scattered locations here and there throughout the area. There was a roadway that led a short distance into the mine, then stopped, totally blocked by rocks and boulders. 

Every once in a while, the ground trembled from aftershocks - so far, the sensors told us that the originating quakes were some distance away, but at any moment they could hit closer. The air was hot, dry and windy - the sun cast a pale but harsh light down onto the barren surroundings, as if it were shining through thin clouds even though the sky was clear and milky yellow. It was hot, but not as hot as I already knew Cardassia Prime had become; on the other hand, heat seemed to radiate upward through cracks in the soil, and whistled out through gaps in the blocked entrance. Whatever was causing that heat to build up was getting closer.

We approached the buildings only to hear the whine of a transporter - a Cardassian transporter. At last. Someone was taking objects, or individuals, from off of the surface - we could not yet see who or what was disappearing, but we heard the faint sound of voices in the distance. It's a good thing that Andorians are generally quite brave - more than that, they're inquisitive and adventurous and weren't at all hesitant to charge forward to find the source of the voices. Three Cardassians stood near one of the sheds, near a well - at least, I thought it was a well. A girl was crying - it was Jill Orra. I recognized her immediately, even from far away, even without the evidence of my tricorder. As we approached, still partially hidden by other structures, I heard her begin to scream.

"We can't leave him there! It's bad enough we're leaving Aatami! I won't go if you leave him. I'm staying here to wait for him!" The translator installed in my tricorder did its best to render her words into Standard. I saw a man, no doubt her father, the infamous Gul Madred, remonstrating with her - as we moved in a little closer, the two of them looked up and saw us. Madred immediately barked something into a communicator, but Jil began to plead with me, this time in Standard.

"Doctor Bashir!! You came for him!"

"I came for his body," I answered dully. 

"He's down there! In the mine! He won't come up! The only way to get him up is in this capsule, and he won't do it - he ran off somewhere. We couldn't stay. The whole place is shaking." That was obvious even as she spoke.

"Then whose body is in the -"

"That's not Garak. Please, Doctor Bashir, go and bring him up. He won't come with me! We scared him." Her father glared at her as, one by one, boxes began dematerializing around them - next, Jil Orra herself dematerialized in mid-sentence. An odd sight to witness - I'll never quite get used to that. Madred was the last to go, leaving myself and my two new Andorian friends staring, stupefied, after them. 

I had no idea what to do next, and no one I could ask. What I had thought was the assembly for a well now seemed, instead, to be the structure supporting and powering a rescue pod, just large enough for a man to stand upright. It was operated by a motorized winch system and had been very recently used. We quickly examined it and decided it was not only serviceable but that the tunnel or tube was clear down to several hundred meters - I could scan only that far, and the ship orbiting above us could do little better. So I took a deep breath, held on tightly both to my communicator and the medical case slung around my shoulder, and stepped inside. 

The Andorians, amazed, looked at one another as if I were not only insane but the bravest insane man they ever knew. They began lowering the capsule, but not before I told them to bring it back up fifteen minutes after it reached bottom. If my communicator should malfunction, I would at least be able to put you, no doubt sedated, into that pod and then send you up - I could always follow afterward, if indeed there could be a second trip given the rapidly deteriorating conditions. Remember, Garak, not only the constant tremors but the threat of Cardassian military discovery hurried us along. And now our presence had been witnessed, although I had strong doubts, at least, that Madred would alert any one else to our mission.

I closed my eyes as the top of my capsule reached the enveloping rock and then plunged into it, surrounding me with darkness, noise and heat. I had read once that in situations like this, the best thing to do was to think of a wide vista, of sunlight and air - so I thought of the beach. On Risa. With you. You never agreed to swim that day, but it didn't matter - we were together on that beach for hours. And it was warm, and peaceful, and beautiful - and you were still alive down at the bottom of that mine, and I was going to find you. The capsule stopped at one point for at least two minutes; my heart pounded but I never stopped remembering you nestled into that warm sand, smiling and calling over to me when I emerged from the water. How wonderful it felt to be wrapped up in your arms there - how I wished for that time to go on forever. 

I finally reached the bottom of the mineshaft; the capsule bounced slightly against the floor as I opened the door and stepped out into hell. Dimly lit, searingly hot, and a hell in which you were nowhere to be seen, or heard, so I did the only thing I could do - I began shouting your name, jogging along darkened corridors hewn out of the rock, hoping I wouldn't lose my way. After a few minutes, you answered me.


	17. Chapter 17

"Julian!" Garak shouted, running toward him from far down one of the passages. "I thought I was imagining things! You're here!! What are you doing here?! You've got to go back!"

"Well, of course I've got to go back, Garak!" Bashir called to him. "So do you! I came here to get you!"

Garak finally reached him and stood jut a few meters away in the shadows. "You came here to get me? Just you?" He was incredulous.

"Almost. Some Andorians are helping me, but I volunteered for this - I HAD to bring you back. I can't live without you. I never want to lose you again."

Garak stared at him, his expression disbelieving. "You never - Doctor, you told me to stay away from you."

"I was wrong. I was wrong. We'll talk after we get out of here, all right? We've got to move!! Can you take us back to the access tube?"

"Yes - I'll take YOU back to the access tube."

"Garak -" . 

"But first -" he paused, giving Bashir an odd look, "I'm afraid we can't go anywhere until you give me that bag you're carrying."

"What?!"

"That bag, doctor - I need that bag. Please throw it to me and then wait there."

"What are you talking about?"

"I need the bag, doctor. Now. Please." Bashir reluctantly slid the strap off his shoulder and tossed the case to Garak, who caught it and disappeared. Bashir had a fleeting memory of O'Brien's reports of Garak's behavior on Empok Nor - the Cardassian didn't seem violent or threatening this time, but the request was more than a little bizarre, even for Garak, in an underground cavern about to collapse in on them both. 

Garak soon returned. "I forgot something else. Are you armed?"

"What?" A particularly loud rumble from overhead had drowned out his words.

"I said, are you armed? No, never mind, I'm sure you are. Please slide your phaser over to me."

"Garak, what does that have to do with anything? I'm not here to kill you, I'm here to get you out!"

"Please, doctor! Now! We don't have much time!" Bashir, mystified, again did as he was told; Garak again disappeared for a few seconds. He returned and began to lead Bashir rapidly down the passage until they were in the area holding the usable rescue pod. Bashir tried to signal the Andorians, but his communicator was, as he feared, not operating at that depth and among all the seismic activity. He put both his hands on Garak's shoulders, resisting the urge right then to pull him close in a crushing embrace.

"Garak! This pod is going back up any minute now - I had told them fifteen minutes but we've already used up at least five. You need to be on it - you have to get out of here. It was a miracle that we saw Madred on the surface - Jil told us you were still down here. I thought you were dead."

Garak didn't answer; he stood with his back to the rock wall, staring unblinking into Bashir's eyes, then slid down until he was sitting on the ground, gazing up at Bashir with a tender and compassionate expression - with in addition an undercurrent of sorrow that Bashir did not immediately discern. "All right, doctor. I'll do it if you say so. But I want to see you get to safety before me - send it back down and I'll follow you." 

"You're going to have to go first, Garak. I'm not leaving you here, and I don't think you want us both to die here." The temperature of the cavern had reached, by Bashir's estimate, almost fifty degrees Celsius and sweat poured down his face into his eyes. Fine grains of sand and dust continually poured into his eyes as well, and there were times he could barely see - but one thing he couldn't miss was Garak's form, resolutely braced against the rock wall, making no move toward the pod. None.

"I can't, Julian," he finally and quietly pleaded. "I can't. Please believe me - if there were any way I could do it, I would. You're going to have to give me up. I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing - but you'll never know how grateful I am to have the chance to see you one last time. But I'm telling you now - you have to leave without me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He looked truly miserable but also, Bashir could tell through the haze, truly terrified, both of being left alone there as well as of being rescued. Bashir sprang forward and tried for an instant to push him toward the open hatch of the pod; it was as if he were pushing the rock wall itself. Garak didn't budge but only sank further down, making it even less likely that he could ever be pushed - or dragged - toward the door. No wonder he had taken and hidden the medical supplies and the weapon - he couldn't be drugged or stunned now, and Bashir knew he himself did not have the strength to overpower a Cardassian as determined and as panicked as Garak was. 

At a loss for what to do next, he then sank down beside Garak and sighed. The ground trembled slightly with another shock wave, but Garak simply closed his eyes. They were watering - whether from sadness or dust, Bashir couldn't tell - but there was now an air of palpable finality to the situation that seemed insurmountable. "So here we die. Too bad I can't tell the people waiting for us to get to safety. Too bad they might die too, all because they stayed too long thinking we actually wanted to live."

"Doctor -"

"In less than five minutes, our last chance of escape leaves without either one of us."

"But we can't escape in that thing!" Garak cried out, his eyes wide now, and frantic. "The rock keeps shifting! We'll be trapped halfway up! That happened to someone else weeks ago, doctor, before all these tremors even started - it was horrible! I'd rather die here than die that way! I can't, don't you understand, I can't. Please, I beg you to save yourself - don't miss your chance! Please don't stay here!"

"Garak," Bashir began, sensing an opening at last, "I wouldn't be saving myself. You just told me. The rock will shift and I'll be trapped halfway up. So I'm staying too."

"Doctor, please! Please don't make me the one responsible for your death! You have perhaps three minutes left - GO! You'll be fine - it'll be stable for a while longer. You can't stay here. You'll be fine in there - the trip is only twenty minutes or so, they tell me - I think the tunnel will last that long. Better to take that chance than die in this furnace. They all need you back on the station - you never should have come here!"

"But I need you too, Garak. We all do. Think of the good you're doing for us. Think of the good you do for me." Garak blinked at him. "I love you. I can't live without you. Do you understand me? So I'm begging YOU now - please get in the capsule - if you're inside when they pull it up, they'll send it back down for me. But one of us has to be in there or they'll think we're both dead."

"And it'll be you. I promise you, I'll get in when it returns." Bashir knew Garak absolutely would not. He was as good as dead already if he stayed - assuming there would even be the chance for a second trip, which was more and more unlikely and which of course he did not tell Garak. "There's no reason I have to be first." Another ground tremor shook them and made the waiting capsule bump ominously against the wall of the tunnel.

"Then we die. I'm not leaving you here."

"Then - then we die," Garak agreed, wrapping his arms around his knees and staring straight ahead. A few seconds later, in a small, plaintive voice, he tried again. "Please go, doctor. I can't watch you die here."

"And I can't watch you either. I'm estimating we have about one minute before that capsule starts ascending. And you know what, my stubborn Cardassian friend?" He paused dramatically at the idea that had just burst into his brain, clear as day. "We're both going to be in it. Both of us."

"What?! It barely holds one person, doctor - it was never built for more than one at a time - we'll never fit."

"We can try. You've lost weight down here and I've lost it worrying about you. And we probably just sweated away another five kilos. Get up. We're going together."

"We'll be trapped in that thing, squeezed together, unable to breathe -"

"I'd rather die that way than down here. Get up. We're leaving." He locked eyes with Garak, barely blinking, not moving. Simply stared. And stared. And ten seconds later, Garak stood up, placed both hands on the doorway of the capsule - and climbed inside, turning himself so he faced the opening. Bashir, in overjoyed shock, tried to climb in behind him but found to his chagrin that there really was not going to be enough room for two adult bodies - there was no way he would ever be able to close the door. But he had managed to get Garak inside it and that was enough for him. He began to back out, but Garak grasped his shoulders.

"What are you doing? You said you were going up with me. Keep trying!"

"I don't think -"

"Keep trying. I'll inhale - you rest your chin on my shoulder - like that -" he hugged Bashir tightly around the waist, "and I'll reach behind you to fasten - the door -" He struggled with the catch, unable to see past Bashir's body, as the pod gave a slight lurch upward.

"Oh God, it's starting to move," Bashir gasped, "and the door's not even closed yet. We're too late. It'll get stuck down here - pull! Pull!" Garak pulled - Bashir was pinned too tightly to move his arms, with his back to the doorway. He inhaled too and practically willed himself to meld into Garak's body. Suddenly there was a click, just as the pod ascended another meter or so and reached the lower edge of the tunnel.

"We're in," Garak panted. "We're moving." The walls shook as the pod scraped against the rock. At that instant, the sole flickering light went out and the two were in total darkness. Garak began to breathe harder; Bashir 's face was nestled tightly against the side of Garak's face, every breath of the Cardassian's hot in his ear. "Doctor, I can't -"

"Yes you can. We made it. You did it." Garak's breathing grew louder and more ragged. "Garak - Garak! Listen to me! Don't faint on me! I need you awake! I, ah... I want to play a game!"

"Now?" Garak, incredulous, stopped gasping just for an instant.

"Yes - now! I want us to pretend something."

"That we're about to die in this capsule?"

"Not even funny, Garak," Bashir grinned, "but a good attempt. I'm proud of you." He took a few shallow breaths and tried not to think of the lack of oxygen. "Just keep breathing. Keep listening to me - close your eyes and concentrate on my voice. I'll tell you what the game is. Just focus on what I'm saying. Will you do that?" He felt Garak nod. "Good. This is the game. We've been imprisoned here together as punishment - by, um, by Captain Sisko - until we tell each other five hundred times that we forgive each other. Until we do that, he won't let us out."

"Forgive each other? Five... five hundred times? Why -"

"Don't worry about the reason. Just do it, or we'll never get out. That's the game - we're trapped together. Stay with me, Garak - this will be so much easier if you stay with me now. I'll start. One. I forgive you, Elim."

"I forgive you, Julian," Garak whispered. "But I really don't understand -"

"Two. I forgive you, Elim." Bashir kissed Garak's ear ridge as the capsule, well within the rock by then, lurched from side to side and stopped for a few seconds, before again resuming the climb. "I forgive you."

"That's three," Garak panted, beginning to panic but still conscious.

"So you say it twice."

Garak did. He whispered other things as well, after the two lost count somewhere around two hundred, starting with "I love you." In fact, at one point with Bashir squeezed so tightly against him that neither one could fully inhale, he remembered from out of nowhere the statement that had caused the doctor to laugh out loud, their first morning together in bed. "It appears, doctor," he murmured into the human's ear, "that we've gotten to know each other somewhat better now."

"Don't make me laugh!" Bashir gasped, smiling gleefully, to Garak's great satisfaction. "I can't laugh! There's no room!"

"It's good you're such a slim little thing, then," Garak purred. "I always wanted to fatten you up a little, though. Put something into you. When we get back -"

"When we get back, this is what I'm going to put into you first," Bashir answered, keeping the Cardassian completely, thoroughly, and very pleasantly distracted for the final five minutes of the climb. In fact, Bashir knew it was impossible, knew he could never really be sure, but it almost seemed as if Garak was just the tiniest bit disappointed when the capsule reached the surface and burst into Bryma's harsh daylight.

*****

Well, that's it, Garak. That's my side of the story - I tried to remember it in as much detail as I could. Granted, I had to re-create some of the dialogue from memory but the meanings are exactly as I describe them. I think what happened is that I became obsessed with you, physically, emotionally, in just about every way, all those years ago when we first met, and so I never really let myself think honestly about you, what your life had been like, what your childhood had been like - and what sort of person you needed me to be. I went through all that reflection later, at exactly the wrong time and in exactly the wrong way. And it wasn't just you I hurt - it was Ezri too. But she, intelligent as she is, never quite believed that I was over you - never. She, in fact, was the first one to accept the invitation to our wedding - did I ever tell you that? And instead of responding yes or no, she simply wrote, "What took you so long?"

Sisko told me not to try to work through everything with you as soon as we got back, but to give it time. Something about not trying to remember events from the past, but trying to create something new. Another piece of advice from a man I fervently hope to see again. And he was right - Garak, I no longer want to put you through my own interrogation - I want to make everything new, as we're doing here together. I can't help but feel, though, that Sisko is always somewhere near, easing our way when barriers threaten to go up - I'm still marveling over how easy it was to procure the Cardassian residency permit, even with our marriage certificate right there in front of the nose of the official. See? I knew we shouldn't wait to do it - that is one thing on which I wouldn't compromise.

I can sense you laughing - all right, I don't compromise on a lot of things, but that at least was the most important one. We'll talk later about the mattress. Oh, and speaking of bed - thank you for understanding. I love the games - when we have time for them. I love the way fantasy can just be fantasy now and not a threat or a bad memory from the past. I never intended it to be that - but you know that now. Someday maybe you'll even tell me more about that problem you had with deciphering "the simplest sentence" - there I go again. Later!

But now, finally. When you read this, it's going to bring back lots of memories again of Jil Orra. I know you had some brief contact with Madred after you first returned to Cardassia - I remember you telling me he was trying once more to get you to join his latest cause. Never brought up the little incident in the mine, but then again, he does seem the "what's a little torture between friends?" type. I take it that he never mentioned his daughter to you, and I'm sure that was deliberate. I think the thought of you as a prospective son in law was probably torture for him in return - I'm sure he desperately wanted to pretend for you that his daughter never even existed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Which may or may not be so simple. Garak, Jil Orra was pregnant. I found that out from my tricorder. The scan wasn't precise enough to give you the level of detail you're going to be demanding when you read this. So it's completely possible that the child wasn't yours at all, but that boy's - Aatami's. I hope so, only because that would be a positive outcome to the story of his very tragic end. I'm sure that's what Madred believes too. I'm sure that's what Jil Orra has told him! But only you and I know - well, she tried to deceive you in so many ways. Could she possibly have been deceiving you about something else? Or was she as innocent then as you believed?

You know what - I can accept the truth now, whatever it may turn out to be. I love you, and I have full and complete faith that you love me too. And just as important - I forgive you, Garak. My Elim. Thank you for forgiving me.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had several inspirations for this story, besides the obvious one of my love for Garak and Bashir and my wish to explore their relationship in many different ways. I was very moved by the news accounts and the 2014 book "Deep Down Dark" about the ordeal faced by the 33 Chilean miners rescued in 2010. As slightly claustrophobic myself, I can't even imagine traveling in one of those rescue pods they used, the "Phoenix." The rescue worker who volunteered to go down into the mine the very first time is, in my view, unimaginably brave - Bashir's rescue of Garak was based on that sort of courage. 
> 
> The idea for the relationship between the presumably deceased Gul Madred and his devoted daughter Jil Orra came from the one portrayed by Vincent Price and Diana Rigg in Mr. Price's wonderful but difficult-to-watch 1973 film "Theater of Blood." But I decided to go in a much less cruel direction and left out the murders! Finally, I recently read that the FBI was recruiting "cyber agents." Hence Madred's little insurgent cell was born.


End file.
